


Second Generation

by SennyriNamis23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, Origin Stories, everyone is my own oc they just live in this universe, i honestly don't even know how to tag this, so i guess i'll just tag about nothing??????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17652062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennyriNamis23/pseuds/SennyriNamis23
Summary: Sometimes, even galactic heroes need to retire. After the events of Fractured Alliances, the original Commanders have fought too hard for too long and need to entrust the Alliance to those who can pick up where they left off. This new set of heroes - Jedi, Sith, Smugglers, Bounty Hunters, Troopers, and Agents - come to the forefront of the Galaxy in their own ways. They will collide for the first time on Ossus, but these stories will get them there. They are the Rebellion, the Mystic, the Disenfranchised, the Exiled, the Lovers. And they will change the galaxy.





	1. The Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smuggler - Modin Rythos  
> Jedi Knight - Ryll Petrias  
> Trooper - Tetri’an

Balmorra wasn’t a terrible place all things considered. Most folks were happy to see Alderaanian chocolates, didn’t much pay attention to who gave it to them. Normally a big burly Mirialan like Modin would cause a bit of a raucous, especially in Imperial space. But he supposed Balmorra was back in Republic hands, which might also explain why almost no one side-eyed him.

He sat in the cantina, feet up on the table, flipping lazily through his banking statements with one hand and drinking a local stout in the other. Beer here was mediocre, but he liked to support the little businesses, especially on planets where big corporations liked to squish out all the other guys. The cantina was relatively quiet this time of day - the evening band was doing a soundcheck, a dozen or so regular customers milled around, only one or two of them stumbled drunkenly. And then trouble walked in.

Didn’t need to see her face to know she was trouble, that she came in angry and looking for a fight. She practically radiated vengeance. Modin sighed, pulled his feet off the table and put down the beer, nodding silently at the bartender, who just returned the nod and went back to cleaning out a pint glass.

Trouble was a Zabrak, bright red and black, short black hair poking out behind her. She was in armor, but it wasn’t Republic model, and it wasn’t Balmorran Resistance gear, either. Merc, then? Was short, too - far shorter than Modin himself - but that never held anyone back before. Didn’t get the feeling it held her back, either.

“‘Scuse me,” he greeted cheerfully, “Can I help you?”

The Zabrak spun on her foot and faced him, looked him up and down and squinted with her hand reaching for the blaster on her hip, “Who are you?”

He smiled, “Modin Rythos. You look like you’re looking for something. Can I help?”

She frowned, looked at him, then her eyes darted around the room. She was nervous, paranoid, alone.

“I don’t need a _man_ to help me,” she hissed in reply.

“Wasn’t suggesting you did,” he said evenly, “but you do look like you might need help from _someone_. And, well, I can be a someone. Not from here, but I’m pretty good at finding stuff that folks don’t want found.”

She looked down at the blasters on his hips, then tracked back up to his eyes, tracing the tattoos on his face, “You’re a smuggler.”

Modin shrugged, “Been lots of things in my life. Aspiring Jedi, hired pilot, mechanic, smuggler, chef, field medic, whatever folks need, mostly. Except the Jedi one. Nobody asked for that.”

She seemed to relax, if only marginally.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he offered.

“No,” she said sternly, but then her eyes softened and she looked up at him, “Can we talk outside? This place is making me feel dizzy.”

He grinned, “Absolutely. Whatever’s most comfortable for you.”

Out in the sunlight, the Zabrak visibly relaxed, letting her shoulders slump forward as she let out a sigh. Modin hadn’t even noticed until now the scars on her face - two lines crossed over her left eye and across the bridge of her nose. He wondered how she got them. He also wondered how she became so afraid of indoor spaces.

“I was supposed to meet someone here,” she explained quietly, walking slowly through Sobrik towards the spaceport, “A resistance officer. But he never showed up at our meeting place.”

“Resistance officer? I thought the Empire had been kicked out of here for a couple years now.”

She nodded, “Yeah, the _Sith_ Empire. But the _Eternal_ Empire’s just attacked Coruscant, and they say Balmorra might be next. We have to fight them before they’re too strong to beat.”

“Shit… Well, I don’t know anything about a resistance officer, but I’ll join whatever group you’re in. One Empire is bad enough. Don’t need two making our lives miserable.”

The Zabrak side-eyed him and gave a mixture of a scoff, a chuckle, and a snort, “You’re just gonna throw in with us? Just like that? For a cause you hadn’t even heard of until seven seconds ago?”

Modin shrugged, “Why not? No need to muddle over the choice. If these Eternal guys are attacking Pub planets, I wanna attack them right back. You seem to know some folks who have that goal too.”

She shook her head, but smiled a little, “Well, alright then. Welcome to the Resistance, Modin. I’m Tetri’an.”

He grinned widely, “A pleasure to meet you, Tetri’an. Let’s go find your officer.”

\---

It didn’t take long for Modin to ingratiate himself with everyone in the company. He was a charmer, that one. An incredibly sincere, honest charmer. If he’d ever had the opportunity to try, Tetri’an was convinced he could charm the horns off a Krayt dragon. He was surprisingly helpful, too. Knew his way around guns and ships, never spoke over anyone in meetings, always offered to cook actual meals when there was produce around. No one asked him where he got it, and he never told. But Tetri’an had a feeling he’d given more than he’d gotten in return.

So she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when he came running into the base with a Cathar girl limp in his arms.

“Hey, Modin dragged a cat in!”

“Shove it, Zed,” Tetri’an hissed at the offending human, who shut up and shrank back into his chair.

She pushed through the growing crowd of rebels and sat opposite Modin as he laid the girl on the bed. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. There was a pair of a lightsabers on her hips, elegant and delicate. Shit, were the Jedi really sending out kids that young into the galaxy now? Tetri’an held the weapons in her hands for a moment, feeling the weight of them before she pocketed them for safe keeping.

“I was gathering supplies in Sobrik,” Modin explained as he worked, calibrating a med-droid, “when I saw her faint in the middle of the street. Nobody else seemed to notice, but she really looks like she needs help.”

The Cathar girl groaned, threw out a hand to Modin, who enveloped it in his own gently, whispering soothing words to her.

“Do you need me to get Doctor Ork?” she asked.

Modin shook his head, “Not yet. We don’t need to bother him if she’s just dehydrated or something.”

Tetri’an nodded, pushed on her thighs as she stood, “Alright, then. I’ll leave her to you. Let me know if you need anything, though.”

He nodded, “Sure thing.”

“Alright, you heard the Commander!” another rebel cried, “Let’s give the smuggler some space! Everyone back to work!”

The crowd dispersed and the Zabrak went back to her tactical maps, but her mind was on the two sabers in her pocket. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

\---

“Ah, there you are!” someone said from beside her, “Good morning!”

Her head pounded something awful, so painful she couldn’t even open her eyes. She put a hand to her forehead and groaned.

“Expect you got quite a headache,” the voice said again, deep and rich and soft, with a Corellian lilt to it, “Soon as the medpac kicks in, you should feel better though.”

She nodded, already feeling a surge of something pleasant through her blood. She opened her eyes and saw a large Mirialan man beside her, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His skin was a golden yellow, his eyes a silvery violet. He had tattoos across the bridge of his nose and on his chin, and he was bald.

He grinned immediately as their eyes met, “Didn’t think it’d kick in so fast. Welcome back to the world, ma’am. My name is Modin Rythos. Do you remember anything from before you blacked out?”

That was a lot to think about.

“I’m Ryll,” she replied shakily, “Ryll Petrias. I remember… I remember meeting Tai Cordan. I remember walking back to my room… I remember… I remember…”

She remembered everything. Everything came tumbling back into her brain so fast she wanted to throw up. She remembered the wails, the screams, the fire and heat, the sounds of blasters and lasers, the rush of adrenaline.

Modin took her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “Easy now, Ryll. Take your time.”

“Tython was attacked,” she mustered, trying not to sob loudly, “My friends… my master… they’re all dead. I felt it.”

“Tetri was right, you _are_ a Jedi, then.”

Ryll nodded, even though she had no idea who Tetri was. Oh, she was tired. She was tired and everything hurt.

And she was alone.

\---

It wasn’t two weeks later that Zakuul attacked Balmorra itself. Fire rained from the sky, skytroopers descended like enormous deadly insects, and the war-torn planet was covered once again in blood.

Ryll had been meditating just outside of the base when the first fleet ship arrived in the atmosphere. She hadn’t seen her lightsabers since she collapsed, and Balmorra was not the ideal place to go about replacing those. Modin and Zed had taught her to shoot a blaster, but she wasn’t convinced she would be any good with it in a battle. They were just so… _uncivilized_. But the threat of Zakuul was well known and if she was going to have to fight them without her lightsabers, it might be good to have a backup plan. She was still a Padawan, after all, and it wasn’t like she was the most skilled at using the Force.

She was good at sensing it, at feeling its tugs and pulls and letting it wash over her. She was good at trusting it and understanding the messages it gave her. She could walk through a volatile battlefield entirely unscathed. But when it came to manipulating the Force, Ryll was mediocre at best.

It did mean she was most at peace in meditation, however. And in the moments before the attack, that’s exactly what she was doing. Smelling the metallic odors of the factories, listening to the footsteps and bustle of the people in the base, feeling the slightly cool breeze brush past her. There was an agitation in the Force today, something powerful and angry. And she was terrified.

She opened her eyes and looked up, seeing the fateful first Fleet ship in the sky. Quickly and gracefully she stood and sprinted inside. Tetri’an was standing at the main console, a strategic map of the planet projected in front of her.

“Tetri’an,” Ryll called, breathless, “They’re here.”

The Zabrak didn’t need any more information than that; she took the tone of commander easily and began ordering around the base, preparing them for the ensuing fight.

“Modin, Zed! Get those rifles passed around! Everyone gets five grenades, use them wisely! Doctor Ork, Inik, prepare defenses for the base - I won’t lose our safehouse! Everyone else, get a weapon! You all know the game plan! Travel among the shadows, stay close to each other, hit the targets and get out! Let’s go go go!” She looked down at Ryll and sighed, reaching into her pocket and showing her two silver hilts, “Think we’re gonna need a Jedi out there, Ryll.”

If she’d had more time to think, she might have been offended that Tetri’an hadn’t trusted her with her own weapons. But for now she was just grateful to have the sleek silver hilts back in her hands. She twirled them over her hands and ignited them, two pale cyan sabers extended in front of her.

Tetri’an looked back to her and nodded, “Petrias, Rythos, with me! We’re gonna need to take out that Star Fortress if we want to keep living here!”

\---

The Star Fortress layout was exactly as Tetri’an’s Nar Shaddaa contacts had said it was. Which was fortunate, because that was about the only advantage they had going into this place. Clearly, elite troopers were put up here, both droid and human alike. And given that their entrance hadn’t exactly gone unnoticed, every step forward meant a hard-fought battle.

It wasn’t anything Aoide hadn’t prepared her for, though. Tetri’an had fought beside her hero and mentor for three years on Iridonia before the Colonel had disappeared. If she was honest, she was bitter that Aoide hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her where she’d gone. But Tetri’an herself also left Iridonia as soon as they’d beaten Zakuul, so she wasn’t sure she had a right to be bitter about it.

She shot another Skytrooper in the head with her trusted rifle before she gathered the Mirialan and the Cathar to her.

“What’s wrong?” Ryll asked, bright blue eyes boring right into Tetri’an’s, “We’re almost there. We just have to kill the Exarch and power down the reactor, right?”

Tetri’an shook her head, “I may have exaggerated when I said we could power down the reactor.”

Modin raised an eyebrow, “You’re saying we’re gonna have to blow it up to keep Balmorra safe.”

Damn him and his ability to see right through her.

She nodded, “Yes. The Exarch won’t go down easily, and we can’t know for sure that the Star Fortress won’t ever run again unless we destroy it.”

Ryll nodded sincerely, “Alright. Whatever we have to do. Balmorra is counting on us, so let’s do it.”

Tetri’an shook her head, “No, you two take this hallway to the escape pods. I’ll go on alone.”

The Mirialan crossed his arms over his chest, “Hell we ain’t.”

“Modin,” she sighed, “I am your commanding officer and I am ordering you-”

“You’re also a friend, Tetri. And I won’t let you go in there to die alone.”

Ryll stood beside him, nodding silently in agreement.

“Now is _not_ the time for an argument about this,” Tetri’an protested, wary of the fact that there were still skytroopers patrolling the ship, “I won’t let you two take the fall for this when it’s my stupid plan. You two still have people who need you.”

Ryll put her hand on Tetri’an’s forearm, not digging her claws in but pressing enough that the Zabrak couldn’t pull out of it.

“We need _you_ , Tetri’an. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

She put her other hand to her face, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers. She wasn’t going to win this fight against her own teammates. But it did mean they probably still stood a chance to get out of this hell hole alive.

\---

Ryll erected a shield around the three of them as the Star Fortress started tearing apart. The radiation from the core almost certainly would have killed them otherwise, even with the protection they wore. Modin had never been so grateful for a Jedi than in the twenty minutes it took to get from the reactor to the hangar.

They all tumbled into the small ship they’d come in on, Tetri’an immediately reaching for the controls and sliding into the pilot’s seat. Ryll let go of the shield and fell to her hands and knees, breathing heavily. Modin knelt beside her and put a hand on her back, but she shook her head and motioned to the cockpit.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, “Help Tetri’an get us out of here.”

He nodded, but pledged to check in on her once they were safely in orbit. He took his seat next to their leader and his hands went to the controls automatically.

He hadn’t had time to think since the attack started, hadn’t had time at all to realize the magnitude of what they’d just done. But as they flew back into the atmosphere with debris flying behind them, he suddenly felt overwhelmed. They’d just taken on a Star Fortress and _won_. They’d done the impossible. The three of them had taken on an Exarch alone and they’d _won_.

“What the fuck is going on down there?” Tetri’an muttered, pulling him back to reality and reminding him that they weren’t actually done yet.

He peered out the window to the see the planet below. They’d expected the destruction of the Star Fortress to end the attack, to deactivate the skytroopers or at least send them into retreat. But it seemed neither was the case. In the four hours they’d been gone, the landscape of Balmorra had been dug up (again), factories set ablaze, cities decimated. Where once the proud capital of Sobrik stood was now just a distant pile of ash and rubble, its spaceport obliterated.

“How?” Tetri’an said again, but Modin suspected she didn’t realize she’d actually spoken out loud.

Ryll made her way back up to the cockpit and put her hands on the backs of their seats to steady herself as Tetri’an navigated through the lower atmosphere.

There was barely time for the console to beep in warning before the shuttle rocked violently.

“Fuck! No! What the fuck!?” Tetri’an cried as she righted the ship and sped out of the way.

Ryll looked over at the console, “Eternal Fleet ships incoming. There are… oh stars… there are a lot of them.”

“How many?” Tetri’an demanded.

“I don’t know… they keep coming… maybe fifty? Sixty?”

Modin swivelled his chair a little to see the proximity monitor, which had been beeping nonstop since the initial hit, “Tetri… Tetri you gotta get us out of here.”

She whipped her head around to him, “Are you crazy? They need us down there! We can’t abandon them!”

He pointed down to the planet, to another pile of rubble where their base used to be, “Not sure how many of them are left, Tetri.”

The Zabrak clenched her hands on the controls, still zooming in and out of Zakuulan shuttles to keep them from landing on their ship or shooting them down.

“There are too many of them, Tetri’an,” Ryll said quietly, “Even if there are survivors, they’re sure to be overwhelmed.”

Tetri’an pushed the nose of the shuttle downward, tears streaming down her cheeks now, “Then that’s why we have to help them!”

“We’ll just die with the rest of them,” Ryll argued patiently, “Would they want you to die for the cause when you’re the only one with a chance to escape, to live, to fight another day?”

There was another explosion right in front of them, forcing Tetri’an to pull the shuttle back up and navigate through smoke for a moment.

Modin took a deep breath. He and Ryll were relative newcomers to the Balmorran resistance group. They hadn’t made the same attachments that Tetri’an had to its members. It was easier for them to take a step back. Ryll, especially. Modin was just rather fond of living, and didn’t see much chance of that continuing if they went back down to the planet’s surface. His heart still ached as he saw the overgrown fields decimated again and the newly built factories burnt to the ground, and when he imagined what the death toll of this new war was on the people of Balmorra. Zakuul was brutally efficient in its takeover. Within literal hours, they’d practically destroyed an entire planet. A planet whose main source of wealth came from its arms factories, no less. He shuddered to think about what that meant for the rest of the galaxy.

Tetri’an pushed away from the console with a huff, “I can’t… I can’t do it.”

Ryll put a hand to her shoulder, but didn’t say anything. Modin took the primary controls over, and pulled the shuttle up even farther. He knew a few places where they could hide and regroup. Only one of them might have some allies they could recruit. Somehow, he doubted Tetri’an was done fighting for good. He might as well continue to help.

The Jedi slid in beside him and put her hands on the controls.

“We’re almost out of atmo,” he noted, routing the shields and power boosters to the back of the ship, “Once we’re out, we’re jumping.”

“I’ll plug in the coordinates. Any idea where we should go?”

Modin nodded, “Port Nowhere. It’s as good a place as any to lie low.”

\---

Six years later, she sat in a patch of grass, running her hands through the blades, paying attention to the sensations as they brushed against her palm. The dew dampened the fur on her hands and the cloak wrapped around her legs. It was cool and dark out still - the dawn wouldn’t come for another half hour or so - but there were a few creatures about. Mawvorr and Nexu patrolled the area around their camp, determining how much of a threat they were.

Ryll sat quietly in the grass, listening to everything, focusing on nothing but the soft breaths in her chest.

Six years ago, she’d been a Padawan on Tython. She’d just been assigned a master, had just set out on her first mission, going ahead to meet him on Balmorra. They were tasked to meet with the Balmorran President, to look over the arms factory, to determine how they might help the Republic defeat the Eternal Empire.

Her master never made it to Balmorra.

The screams still haunted her in her dreams. She wasn’t even on Tython when Zakuul attacked, but she still felt and heard everything that had happened there. The friends she’d left there cried out to her with their dying breaths, begging for her to hear them and to save herself. _Don’t come back, Ryll,_ they said, _Run. Remember us and be brave. We love you_.

She wiped a tear from her eye. _There is no emotion, there is peace_. What a load of crap. But they were the only words she could actually remember her old master saying to her. The only words she heard in his voice. So she repeated them to herself anyway, even if she wasn’t sure she believed them.

She was in her twenties now, far from the naive adolescent who left Tython for the first and last time without even knowing what the future could have possibly held. Her friends had told her to run, to stay alive and stay safe away from the Eternal Empire. But here she was, sitting in the golden grains of Voss, fighting the same Eternal Empire. The same Eternal Empire she’d been fighting for the last six years.

She looked up into the sky, traced the black patch with her eyes; the Star Fortress blocked out the light of the stars, its massive silhouette casting a shadow onto the planet below. She sighed and shivered as a breeze passed through her. The grass shifted beside her, and without even looking she knew which companion had settled beside her.

Modin put one of his massive hands on her shoulder and just held it there. Despite having absolutely no affinity for the Force whatsoever, the Mirialan always seemed to know when she was drifting into a more melancholy mood. Even at four in the morning. He yawned and smiled kindly, but didn’t say anything. Tetri’an grumbled in her sleep behind them, back on her cot by the remaining embers of the campfire.

“Think we’ll make a difference this time, Mo?” she asked, voice barely a whisper, still looking up at the Star Fortress’ outline.

He grunted, starting to rub one of his thumbs behind her ear comfortingly, “Course we will, kid. We got this. We got a badass guerilla soldier, a charming and handsome pilot, and a powerful Jedi. We’ve already destroyed one Star Fortress. We’re basically unstoppable.”

“I’m barely even a Padawan,” she protested, “It’s not like I’m a real Jedi. I haven’t taken the trials or even seen a Master in six years…”

Modin shook his head, “Nonsense. They’d just say what we already know. You’re a full-fledged Jedi, whether some fancy Jedi said it or not.”

\---

Tetri’an had butterflies in her stomach when they reached the Star Fortress. They hadn’t gotten this close to a Star Fortress since Balmorra, and a lot had happened in six years. She couldn’t help but think of all the people she’d left behind that fateful day. She’d left Balmorra itself to die, to wither and crumble in the hands of a tyrant.

For six years, she’d been fighting back. Against the Eternal Empire, and against herself. Some days she still punished herself for letting Modin and Ryll talk her into fleeing. She’d refuse to eat, workout for too long, pick a fight in a bar, tear at the hair on her head, scratch at her horns. Modin and Ryll had very patiently dealt with her for six long years. It hadn’t taken long for them to get back into the fight, but it seemed every crew they joined met the same fate as the resistance movement on Balmorra. Manaan, Alderaan, Tatooine. All of them had been taken over by Zakuul despite guerilla ground forces. Tetri’an was beginning to think about pulling out altogether, about running to a quiet corner of the galaxy and living the rest of her life as a hermit where nobody could bother her. It’s what Aoide had done, wasn’t it? That was the rumor, anyway.

But then they were contacted by the Voss. They’d had ground troops successfully pushing back the Zakuulans, and needed an extra push from outsiders to defeat them for good. Modin and Ryll jumped at the chance. And even if she was dubious, Tetri’an refused to let the two of them go alone. They were the only people left in her life, and as much as she longed to be a lonely hermit, she needed to be there with them. To keep them alive if nothing else.

As she navigated the shuttle into the Fortress’ hangar, Modin used intel from a friend in the SIS to get into the security and temporarily shut down the alarm protocols. And sure enough, there were no skytroopers to meet them this time. The first two rooms were empty, in fact, which seemed… odd. Even without alarms blaring, there should be a security presence in the place, right? Zakuul wasn’t that cocky?

Modin and Ryll didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, though. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

She let them go ahead, trailing behind to guard their backs. So far, no patrols had flanked them, but then again, they’d come across relatively few patrols at all in the twenty minutes they’d spent on the Star Fortress.

Ryll thrust her lightsaber into the guts of three skytroopers of a patrol, leaping lightly into a fourth. Modin accurately put holes in the chasses of another four, and Tetri’an blew the head off the one in the far back. Not that she was keeping count of their kills.

And then she heard a voice, someone familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She tugged on the back of Modin’s shirt and put her finger to her lips to keep him quiet. She motioned to the wall and put her back to it. The two others followed her directions unquestioningly, and they crept up to the next hallway along the wall, this time with Tetri’an in the lead.

“Commander, patrol twelve-auresh should have made it back to our position by now,” the voice said, low and gruff and serious, “Something’s wrong. How good is your info, Shan?”

There was static from an earpiece before someone else scoffed, “Pretty damn good, Major. And I’d appreciate it if you’d get off my back about it.”

The first voice grumbled something incoherent, but a third voice chimed in.

“We’ll figure it out, Theron. Just keep an eye on the Exarch and that reactor.”

Both of Tetri’an’s hearts swelled in her chest as she heard it. It was soft and smooth and confident. It took all of her self-control to keep from running around the corner. Aoide. The first voice must have been Major Jorgan, her husband. Tetri’an had only met him a handful of times before, which explained why she didn’t immediately recognize him.

Modin touched her shoulder and cocked his head in a question.

Tetri’an nodded and smiled wanly. Oh, she prayed her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.

She cleared her throat, “I think I can help explain that, Colonel Aoide.”

“What the-” Aric cried out, she heard him unlocking the trigger on his rifle, no doubt aimed in their direction.

Slowly, she holstered her own rifle behind her back and stepped out into the hallway with her hands up. Sure enough, a sniper was trained on her. But he didn’t fire.

Aoide just grinned from ear to ear, with her hands on her hips, “I should have known a missing patrol was your handiwork, Tee.”

The Zabrak Colonel reached out and took two steps forward to embrace her protege, sending shivers down Tetri’an’s back. She was warm and her hug completely engulfed her, but she was just so comforting. Nothing could go wrong with Aoide there.

“Commander?”

Aoide turned back to her husband, “Aric, you remember Tetri’an? She trained with me on Iridonia oh what, seven years ago now?”

Aric holstered his rifle, “Right, right. I remember. Apologies for that, Tetri’an.”

She just shook her head, “I’d have done the same.”

Modin and Ryll snuck out from the wall to join them, standing behind Tetri’an.

“Ah, this is your team?” Aoide asked, looking over the Mirialan and Cathar with trained eyes.

Tetri’an nodded, “Modin Rythos, Ryll Petrias, this is Colonel Aoide and Major Aric Jorgan.”

“Ah, just Aoide is fine. _Commander_ , if you must,” she said jovially, shaking both of their hands. Her eyes went back to Tetri’an, making her feel infinitely small but also like the only other person in the universe, “I assume we’re here for the same reason? Shall we continue together?”

Tetri’an looked back to the rest of her team, who just nodded enthusiastically, “We’re in.”

Major Jorgan just nodded curtly, “Let’s get moving.”

The five of them (plus Theron Shan in the earpieces of the Colonel and Major) ran through the Star Fortress in record time - it seemed the other two had gotten similarly good intel on the layout and security of the place. They smashed through every patrol they came across, and even as Ryll plowed ahead, nothing so much as scratched her. Tetri’an and Aoide guarded the rear as the other three went in front, and the few times a patrol team snuck up behind them, they were dealt with swiftly.

It felt good to fight beside her mentor again, even if the circumstances were absolutely baffling. Tetri’an contemplated a few times shooting herself in the foot just to make sure this was real and not some sort of wish-fulfilling dream. She decided to deal with that later. Dream or not, she needed to finish this.

Sure enough, just like last time they made it to the Exarch and killed him, then set the reactor core to self-destruct on a timer, even as the Star Fortress started to push itself apart from the fighting so close to the core. This time, however, Ryll’s shield was far stronger, and when they returned to their shuttles, the young Cathar Jedi wasn’t on the verge of collapsing.

Aoide just sent Tetri’an a set of coordinates as they parted, and told them to meet her back on the planet’s surface. She’d had an offer for them. Whatever that meant.

Modin and Ryll were quiet on the ride back, but that did nothing to stifle their excitement. To them, Aoide was a decorated war hero, something akin to a superhero they’d heard about on the news.

But to Tetri’an, Aoide was far more than that. She was not only a mentor, but the personal hero of her people. She’d been one of the few people to have fought Zakuul and won. And she won protecting Iridonia, her homeworld. She was an alien, a Zabrak, besmirched by more than a few people Imperial and Republic alike. But despite that, Aoide had started as a local guerilla fighter, then rose through the ranks of the Republic Army, became the commanding officer of the most elite squad in the Republic, and thwarted dozens of Imperial missions. And after all that, she returned to Iridonia. She came back. Not even Bao-Dur had done that, or so the stories said. Aoide came back to them. And she chose Tetri’an as her successor.

If there wasn’t so much adrenaline running through her veins still, she might have cried. But she still needed to get the three of them out of the swaths of destruction.

\---

When the three of them touched back down on Voss at the specified location, Aoide and Aric were already waiting for them. She leaned casually against the shuttle with her arms folded over her chest, and he paced in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back.

Aoide pushed herself off the shuttle and embraced the three of them again, squeezing Tetri’an a little tighter than she had back on the Star Fortress - which was still littering the sky above them in little firey blazes.

The tall Zabrak woman took a step back addressed all of them, “Have you all heard of the alliance that’s gathered to bring down Zakuul?”

\---

“Commander? You asked to see me?”

Raelyn sat at her desk, deep creases in her brow, hair falling out of her ponytail and tucked behind her ear. She looked up quickly as Tetri’an entered, a moment of wildness in her eyes that silently betrayed her calm and even facade.

“Tetri’an, yes,” she said, powering off the datapad she’d had in front of her and standing up, “Come, it’s far more pleasant outside.”

She brushed by her out into the hallway. Tetri’an hesitated. Raelyn was the Commander of the Alliance, the Outlander who had killed Valkorion, the former Emperor’s Wrath, and a _Sith_. Following her alone out into the Odessen Wilds was basically asking for a lightsaber to the back.

But Raelyn waited patiently in the hallway, without so much as fidgeting, “I’m not in the habit of betraying my allies, and my lightsabers are locked in a cabinet in my quarters. But I understand that old habits are hard to break. Would you be more comfortable if I asked Ryll and Modin to come, as well?”

Tetri’an breathed deeply and shook her head as she jogged a little up to Raelyn’s side, “No. We don’t need to bother them.”

She smiled a little, but had a knowing glint in her eyes.

The cool Odessen breeze hit Tetri’an in the face as they exited the base and entered the wilds. This world was so tranquil, she hardly knew how to react to it. For as long as she could remember she’d been hopping from war-torn world to war-torn world, doing her part to mobilize and protect the people who couldn’t do it themselves. To stay on a planet that had never truly known war was still odd to her.

But Raelyn audibly inhaled, closing her eyes as she let the sunlight hit her face.

“Your record states that you were on Mimban seven years ago,” she said, taking them deeper into the forest, “You served with Jedi Master Gnost-Dural.”

Tetri’an nodded, “Among others, yes. Why?”

Raelyn leaned back against a boulder, “I need you to do something for me, Tetri’an. There’s a group of Jedi hidden on Ossus, completely off the grid. Imperial forces are headed there to destroy their colony. I need you to go there and help them evacuate. Bring Ryll and Modin if you like, but it has to be a small team if we want to avoid the Imperials finding out.”

She looked at the Commander, at the woman who less than a year ago basically ruled the entire galaxy. Stars, she looked exhausted.

“You want to fight the Imps?” Tetri’an asked.

Raelyn shrugged, “I want to fight _injustice_. Just happens to be coming from my home planet this time around. There’s no reason to wipe out a civilian colony on a fringe world with no resources. Could be Acina herself out there and I wouldn’t side with her.”

“Then why send me? Why stay behind? Wouldn’t the Commander of the Alliance send a much stronger message to the Imperials than a couple nobodies?”

She nodded, “It might. But first, it’s Master Gnost-Dural who heads the Jedi colony. He doesn’t know me, not beyond the Wrath. Sith walks up to a Jedi colony and questions don’t generally get asked before lightsabers come out. But he knows you. Knows you’re loyal and a fighter.

“Second,” she continued slowly, as if every word caused her pain, “I can’t be the leader I used to be. I _physically_ can’t do it anymore. If you tell anyone I’ll deny it, but truth is, I’m not sure I’d come back alive. And I’ve still got far too much to live for.”

Well, that was an unexpected confession. Silence fell around them, and Tetri’an flickered her gaze from Raelyn to the ground and back to Raelyn again. But the Alliance Commander held her eyes steady.

“So?”

Tetri’an nodded, back to business, “I’ll do it. When will we go?”

“As soon as you’re ready. I’ll have Theron prep a shuttle for the three of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aoide is my original Trooper; she romanced Aric.  
> Raelyn Politryk is my original Sith Warrior, Empire's Wrath, Outlander, and The main Alliance Commander; she romanced Lana.


	2. The Mystic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jedi Consular - Lyraila

The fields of Alderaan were gentle and open, a cool breeze floating through the stalks of grain, bright green in the early morning sun. Lyraila had climbed to her favorite place on top of the Triplehorn Mountains, sitting in meditation as the sun warmed her face. She knew she would have to leave Alderaan soon, so she took in the views with extra care that morning. The rolling hills, the shimmering lakes, the snow-capped mountains. It was so peaceful and serene, almost like there was no civilization here at all.

She felt a poking against her back. Not violent or angry, but curious. A slightly wet nose pressed against her exposed shoulder, paws pressed against her back so the visitor could get a better angle at her. They pushed aside the lekku on her back, shoving its nose against her neck, making her giggle.

“Why hello there,” she greeted, turning around to see who had joined her.

There was a small vorn tiger cub, its fur pale blue and white. There was a blue mark on its face that resembled the small white circles on Lyraila’s own cheeks. It barked and jumped, patting at the dirt and asking her to play.

She laughed to herself and slapped her hands on the ground like the little cub did. Said cub barked in delight, running in a circle after its own tail until it fell over, sending Lyraila into laughter again. The tiger cub just rolled onto its back, wiggling in the dirt.

“You’re a silly little creature, aren’t you?” she cooed, putting her hand to her chin.

After a few more rounds of chasing its tail, the cub rolled back onto its belly and stretched with a yawn. It walked right into Lyraila’s lap, curling in a ball and falling asleep immediately. She didn’t even hesitate to scritch behind its ears, looking back over the valley again.

She’d have to leave Alderaan soon. Leave the grasses and the trees and the mountains. She wished she didn’t have to, but her visions were clear. She had to leave this world, find passage on the next ship that would take her.

She looked down at the tiger cub in her lap, moving her hand to scritch under its chin. It lifted its head and closed its eyes, purring contentedly.

She wished she didn’t have to leave.

But alas, the Force tugged at her heart, beckoning her to move forward and continue her journey. So she gently uncrossed her legs, leaving the little tiger cub on the path. She brushed the dirt off her pants and tunic, and took off back the way she came.

The journey back to House Organa was a lonely one. Lyraila was used to traveling alone, and had never felt the need for a companion before. The Force was all the company she needed, and there was nowhere she could go without the Force alongside her. But she suddenly felt like a vital part of her was missing, like an arm or a leg. She looked down to make sure all her appendages were attached - they were. Her bag was still slung over her shoulder, and what few belongings she had were still packed away in it. If she hadn’t been in a hurry, she would have stopped to meditate on it; but as it was, she just continued forward, running her hands over her lekku and montrals to soothe her anxieties.

She didn’t even see the cub, but she sure felt it as it climbed up onto her shoulders as she entered the space port. Lyraila grimaced as claws dug into skin, but the tiger cub quickly wrapped its tail around her neck and settled on her shoulders. It snorted quietly, but put its head on its paws and stared ahead.

“Oh stars, you want to come with me?” the Togruta asked, brushing its head with a couple fingers.

The cub purred at her, closing its eyes slowly.

“How am I supposed to take care of you? I’m not exactly motherly, and I don’t even know what you need.”

The cub huffed and snuggled further into her shoulder. It flicked its tail against her chest.

It was warm against her skin, its fur surprisingly soft.

 _He._ The cub was a boy. He didn’t speak, but the Force was obviously telling her something about him.

A name flashed in her mind.

“Takdir?” she asked, voice mostly a whisper.

The cub purred louder, stilled his tail, and opened his bright green eyes.

“Takdir,” she repeated, more confident this time. Yes, that was his name. Takdir.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds, Lyraila and Takdir. Figuring each other out, letting their auras intertwine. And Lyraila realized - Takdir was the companion she’d needed, the part of her that was missing.

She smiled without another thought, “Well, Takdir, it looks like we’re in this together.”

The tiger cub closed his eyes, and Lyraila swore she could see him smile.

\---

Lyraila had never been to the Temple on Tython before. And as she ran her hands over the rubble, she began to piece together in her imagination what it might have looked like before all this happened. Twice now the Temple had been destroyed. The first had been done by the Sith, nearly seven years ago. The Temple had been rebuilt, stones reused to capture the truest image of what it could be.

But the second time, the destruction by the Eternal Empire, was total and complete. No master could piece together the Temple again with what was left.

She imagined grand halls, swirling stairways, floating holocrons in every room detailing the history and deeds of Jedi across the ages. Thousands of Jedi had called the Tython Temple home, had walked these halls, trained with the tattered dummies. She could sense all of them here, saw in her mind’s eye the thousands of Padawans who came through here. It had been a place full of life, vibrant and lovely. Nothing like the piles of stones and dirt which inhabited the planet now.

Not a single person remained on the planet. Plants and wild animals had made their way back slowly, but there didn’t even appear to be Flesh Raiders around. Not that Lyraila had ever met a Flesh Raider, but she’d read about them before. No Jedi, no Flesh Raiders, no Twi’leks. Just the Uxibeasts, Horanths, and local flora.

And Takdir, of course. The little tiger cub had been with Lyraila since they left Alderaan, and he had grown considerably in that time. He couldn’t wrap himself around her shoulders anymore, so he walked beside her, silently investigating their surroundings as Lyraila wandered through her own paths.

She stopped for a second, as something caught her attention. A shiny thing in the rubble. She picked it up, brushed off the dirt with her hands, and looked at it. There was a crack down one side that ran the length of the cylindrical object. Lyraila turned it over in her hands, admiring the silver detailing in the otherwise golden thing. A lightsaber hilt perhaps? She carefully turned it on its end and put her eye to the opening. Not even sparks going off anymore.

She pocketed the trinket, sure that the Force had led her to it for a reason, even if she didn’t quite know what it was yet.

After a bit more wandering around the outskirts of the Temple, she returned to its crumbling halls and broken stairways, walking among the ruin. How she would have loved to have learned in this place.

She knelt in the rubble, brushing aside the dust and dirt to reveal three broken fragments of a holocron. She smiled as she fit the pieces together, closed her eyes as she levitated them out in front of her and willed them to fuse back together.

Lyraila laughed as the item lit up and hummed before her. She’d never put together a holocron before. Takdir yelped excitedly, running in circles around her.

A young human woman appeared before her, form blue-ish and faint.

“I admit, I did not think it was possible to repair a holocron,” the human woman said, “but again, there are many secrets of the galaxy which I do not know. Who are you, stranger?”

“My name is Lyraila,” she replied with a nod.

The woman smiled, “Lyraila may be your name, but a name does not define who you _are_. Who _are_ you, Lyraila?”

A harder question. She thought for a moment, letting silence drape over the two of them as she did. Lyraila was many things: Togruta, Force-user, wanderer, fixer, seeker. To confine her identity to a single word or a single phrase seemed… inadequate.

“I suppose what I am most is a dreamer,” she replied, “both literal and metaphorical, I suppose. My dreams guide me to places, to people, to things - like you and Takdir. But I also dream to be more than what I am, to be part of something more than this life.”

The woman nodded, “You know far more than most others who have approached me, Lyraila. My name is Kalina Lornacch. I am commonly known as the Third Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order, but I am truly a learner. This holocron seeks to learn as much from you as you do from it. It is my legacy and final wish that the galaxy continues to learn from each other.”

“A noble goal.”

“I’m glad you agree,” the holocron replied, “So, Lyraila, what can I learn from you?”

\---

The holocron traveled the galaxy with her, and as Kalina relayed her life to Lyraila, Lyraila did the same right back. It was really the first time Lyraila had ever formed a connection with another being before, Takdir excluded. Even her own birth family was connected to her by blood, but not at all in spirit. It was part of why she left them back on Corellia.

To say that Lyraila did not relate well to other people would be a vast understatement, and a truth that she would readily admit.

But she did know the Force. And with the Force as a friend and guide through the galaxy, who needed people? She could travel from world to world without fear with the Force at her side. It pulled and tugged at her, encouraging her to follow. And she always did. The Force would not lie to her, would not manipulate her, would not harm her. With the Force she was safe. The same could not be said of people.

She found herself these days surrounded by them. A civilian transport freighter was not the quietest way to travel, but it was an efficient one. And given she had very few belongings, and no desire to speak anyone else, it was just as fine as any other method of transport. People were constantly in her space, overwhelming her senses with sounds and smells and touches as they brushed past her. So she kept to herself, spending most of her time on her own cot with Takdir laid out around her to growl at anyone who got too close.

For now, she sat in meditation, breathing deeply the filtered air on the ship, paying no attention to the din around her. The old lightsaber hilt floated gently in front of her. She imagined the world to which they traveled, pictured landscapes and the sky in her mind. She’d had a vision about this place, about the journey she would take once she arrived there. Had she not placed her faith entirely in the Force and its plan for her, she would have been anxious. But Lyraila wasn’t anxious.

Not anxious.

\---

Voss was as beautiful as it was foreign. It took a bit of mental pushing to convince the authorities to allow her to embark on the planet, but the visions were clear. She must go to Voss. Once on the planet, she was met with far less resistance.

“You have been expected, Outsider.”

“Sana-Rae has had a vision. Go to her.”

“Lavak-Su will greet you in the Temple of Healing. Go there.”

Lyraila was used to following the whims of her own visions, but she hesitated when the Voss mentioned they, too, had foreseen her arrival. Takdir sidled up beside her and shoved his head under her hand to steady her.

He was nearly as tall as she was now, just about full grown. His paws were strong and massive, his tail a weapon if he chose to use it, and he was big enough for Lyraila to ride. But his fur was still soft, and she still felt herself calming when he made his presence known to her.

She rubbed her hands behind his ears as they walked the path to the Temple of Healing. She felt the stones beneath her feet with every step; felt the air in her lungs as she breathed; felt Takdir’s fur beneath her fingers. Better to feel than to think. Feeling connected her to this world, to the Force, to herself. Thinking sent her mind into spirals, her stomach into knots, her heart into a tizzy.

If she’d allowed herself the time to think, she never would have left Corellia all those years ago. And she probably would have returned a dozen times since.

The path was rocky, and as her foot hit another stone, she was brought out of her thoughts and back to the present reality. Takdir looked unamused beside her, but he remained by her side, vigilant and stoic.

The approach to the Temple was uphill - not steep, but enough that she always found herself looking up at the magnificent facade. And sure enough, as she approached the building itself, there was another Voss who intercepted her.

“I am Lavak-Su. You are expected. Follow me.”

There were no questions, so Lyraila gave no answers. Instead, she did as he said and followed him inside. If she was any less nervous or focused on her destination, she might have noticed that she was the only non-Voss in the Temple, and the eyes of a dozen of them followed her and Takdir through the building. She might have noticed just how vast and empty the interior was. She might have seen Takdir looking around them, baring his teeth slightly.

But Lyraila saw none of these things. She saw her violet-colored feet wrapped in dirty white cloth, watched the steps as she descended them, and kept an eye on their guide. All with her hand deep in Takdir’s fur.

And as they rounded the final corner, the woman of Lyraila’s visions stood before her. She was tall, thin, her skin swirls of red and blue. Her eyes were like pale blue lights in the darkness, glowing in the shadowy room. She wore the traditional garb of the Voss Mystics, and nodded once to Lavak-Su when they entered.

“I am Sana-Rae,” she introduced, her voice lilting as a song even if her words were short, “You are to travel with me. The visions are clear. You are to be my student.”

Lyraila nodded, “I have seen the same.”

“There is no time to waste. We go to Odessen. We will aid the Alliance.”

\---

Sana-Rae fidgeted with her hands, twirling the rings around her fingers. Both of them waited in the cantina of the Alliance Base on Odessen, seated at a small table off in one corner. There weren’t many people around, but there was music playing. After spending the last week on Sana-Rae’s ship with only momentary interruptions of the silence, the cantina music felt a bit like a nail being hammered into Lyraila’s head.

Takdir curled up around her feet under the table, and she rested her feet on him, focusing as much as she could on him rather than every other sensation in the room.

Both of them felt the energy of the room change at the same time, Voss and Togruta straightening their posture in tandem. A shiver ran down Lyraila’s spine as she felt a pair of powerful Force-users enter the room.

She recognized one of them immediately.

A red-headed Jedi and a blonde Sith both appeared, the Jedi waving gently at the two newcomers with one hand, and holding onto a tall walking stick with the other. The Sith had a stern look on her face, but she was obviously only hiding worry and fear. There was another human behind them, though he did not radiate in the Force nearly so brightly as the women.

“Welcome to Odessen,” the Jedi greeted, “You are the Mystics Theron contacted, yes? Sana-Rae and Lyraila?”

Sana-Rae nodded and stood up. Lyraila stood up beside her compulsively and a little too quickly, feeling her hands shake and her forehead throb as she came to terms with the fact that the woman in the holocron she’d found on Tython nearly a year ago was now standing directly in front of her.

“We are honored to join your Alliance,” Sana-Rae said with a small bow.

The Jedi nodded, “And we’re just as honored to have you. I am Kalina Lornacch, and these are my compatriots, Lana Beniko and Theron Shan.”

“I have your holocron, Master Barsen’thor,” Lyraila blurted, fumbling through her pack before she pulled out the artifact that had kept her company all this time and offering it to its creator.

She winced at her own blunder, but Kalina tucked the walking stick in her arm and smiled warmly as she took the holocron.

“To be honest, I had thought that this must have been destroyed during Zakuul’s bombardment of Tython,” she noted softly, holding the holocron and inspecting it, running her hands over its ridges. She turned on the projector and chuckled as her own image appeared before them, playing back the same recorded message Lyraila had heard the first time she’d picked it up.

Kalina gently powered it down again and passed it back to Lyraila, “Before you share with me all the adventures you’ve had with my holocron, perhaps we should get both of you settled into the Force Enclave, yes?”

Right. Force Enclave. The reason Sana-Rae had been asked to join them was to oversee the Force-users who joined the Alliance - Jedi, Sith, Zakuulan, something else. Sana-Rae herself was neutral, just as the space was meant to be, which made her a perfect leader. Lyraila, as her student, just tagged along.

But she nodded to Kalina, taking the holocron back and putting it back in her pack, secretly relieved that the Barsen’thor hadn’t kept it.

\---

Lyraila sat in the rubble of the final battle.

Takdir slept beside her, one paw wrapped in a flexible cast. The Togruta healer on the base had taken good care of him, and the cast was mostly a precaution. But she still put a hand in his fur and clenched him tightly.

Her lightsaber rested in her lap, completely still. But there were still visions behind her eyes of its pale purple blade swinging through the air, cutting through droids and Zakuulan sentients alike. She shuddered.

The Force Enclave had been her home for the last four years, it was the most comfortable place in the galaxy to her now. Nobody else joined her in this moment, as the Alliance was taking stock of who was with them after their final fight against Zakuul. Even with debris all around her, a corner of the ceiling caved in, and broken equipment strewn on the floor, Lyraila tried to find peace there. She needed peace now more than ever.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The air was dusty, and she coughed to clear her lungs of it. Her heart still raced; tears still threatened behind her eyes.

She breathed again, taking her hand from Takdir’s fur and resting it on her thigh.

She breathed a third time, and the walls around her melted away. Takdir was still beside her, as always, but she was no longer surrounded by the broken pieces of her home, or the reminders of the battle she just fought.

Instead, she was surrounded by red desert sand and chipped, black rock. Ruins were carved into cliffs, the only remains of a giant legacy. The air was arid, though the water flowed smoothly into shallow pools. There was a colony there, artificial farms and gardens littered the landscape, and people of many species gathered to harvest.

Among them was a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Lyraila herself, pale skin decorated in bright blue tattoos, white hair pulled back loosely, clothing dirty from her work. She knelt in the soil, working tirelessly but with a smile on her face. She stopped to wipe her brow and offer up a quip to the Twi’lek beside her, though Lyraila heard nothing.

And then, all of the sudden, the young woman stopped and looked up. Lyraila could see the blue in her eyes clearly. She felt like the woman might see her eyes, too.

But as quickly as the vision came, it was gone.

Takdir rustled beside her, flopping over onto his back and whining. Lyraila opened her eyes, seeing clearly again.

She laughed at her companion and rubbed his chest with both of her hands, “Are you ready for another adventure, Takdir?”

He wriggled under her hands, snuffling and yipping.

“Alright, alright, we don’t have to leave right this second,” she replied, smiling broadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kalina Lornacch is my original gen 1 Jedi Consular. She's also one of the founders of the Alliance. She romanced Felix Iresso.


	3. The Disenfranchised Seekers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sith Warrior - Eleutheria Marr  
> Bounty Hunter - Bai'liye

The day that Darth Marr died was the day that Eleutheria finally knew what it meant to be lost.

Every part of her screamed as she felt his presence shatter. She was nowhere near Zakuul, but she felt his death as closely as if she herself had died. She felt his defiance, his unbridled rage. She felt him reach for her in his last moments.

Eleutheria fell to the floor of their Dromund Kaas apartment, tears streaming down her face as she screamed. Darth Marr was unquestionably the most powerful Sith Lord in the Empire, he couldn’t just… he couldn’t. Not now, not leaving her behind.

And she felt the Force ripple and tear as her father died. She felt herself die with him.

\---

Baili had been lost for as long as she’d been alive, it felt like. Sent from Ryloth to Nal Hutta to Quesh to Tatooine as a child, then to Nar Shaddaa as a teenager. When she finally escaped slavery, she’d found freedom but not a home or a purpose.

She touched the scars around her mouth, carved into her skin by her caretakers on Tatooine, hoping to blemish her skin to make her less appealing to the Hutts. It hadn’t worked. Though bashing the Gamorrean guard’s face in with a durasteel pole had worked wonders when she finally escaped.

A Mirialan woman came up behind her and handed her a helmet, letting their hands touch for just a moment before handing it off to her. She was tall, probably a good head taller than Baili herself was, and she was as strong as a rancor. And Baili adored her more than anyone else in the galaxy.

“Be safe out there,” she said quietly.

Baili carefully maneuvered the helmet around her lekku, pulling them gently through the slots in the back.

“Lil, that’s like telling someone to be calm while they’re being chewed up by a sarlacc.”

The Mirialan just shook her head and pulled out a datapad, “You’re in slot five, speeder’s already out there.”

“And Slughorn?”

“He’s in slot three, but I think he’ll find his engine won’t run once he hits third gear.”

Baili reached over and kissed her cheek, “I love you so fucking much. Once this is over, I’m gonna kiss your brains out.”

She laughed, sending butterflies through Baili’s stomach, “Gotta survive the race, first, babe.”

Alright, so maybe speeder racing wasn’t a purpose in life. But it did put dinner on the table, and did help her meet the love of her life. And she wasn’t dead yet.

\---

Darth Vowrawn leaned back in the leather armchair, swirling a glass of Kaasian brandy in one hand, and the other draped casually off the arm, fiddling with the rings he wore. His violet robes brushed against the floor gracefully, one foot kicking out lazily as he spoke.

“My dear Theria, I cannot even fathom the emotions you are feeling in this moment,” he said, looking not at all sorry for her situation, “To have lost someone so important to the Empire, and also to you personally, it’s simply dreadful.”

Eleutheria sat on the couch opposite the Dark Council member, studying the jewelry on his face, wondering how he got the golden cuffs to stay so neatly on his chin tendrils. His false sympathy was nauseating, but she risked an uglier side to the Sith if she didn’t graciously accept it. So she half-listened to his grandiose monologue about the fleeting nature of life, tuning in again only when she sensed he was finished.

She nodded shallowly, “Thank you, Lord Vowrawn.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her response, “I know things must be difficult for you, but with your father, the Wrath, and the Emperor gone, you must think about your future, my dear. Surely, I am not the first Dark Council member to have approached you by this point.”

She stared at him flatly, “I’m surprised you’d think such a thing, considering it has only been two days since my father’s death.”

He laughed an ugly, grating, incredibly false laugh, “My dear, you have been the talk of the town! Everyone wants to know how the Darling of the Sith will proceed. The heir to Darth Marr, without her father to guide her. Will she rise through the ranks or will another take her place?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, Lord Vowrawn? It’s been two days, surely they can’t expect me to have my entire life figured out.”

He frowned, pausing and taking a sip of his whiskey, “My dear, we all assumed you planned for this day to come. Surely, you did not believe your father would live forever?”

She looked down at her lap sheepishly, saying nothing in return.

Vowrawn set the glass down on the table between them, “Could it be? The powerful and enlightened Darth Marr did not prepare his own daughter for his demise?” He paused dramatically, standing up as he prepared to leave, “I suggest you determine your next steps quickly, dear Theria. The smoke will clear soon, and when it does, you’ll not have the luxury of allies who pity you because you are mourning.”

Eleutheria looked up at him, but he’d already swished his robes behind him, heading for the door.

“Farewell, little Marr,” he called to her, calling her by the pet name all the Dark Council lords gave her as a child, “Do let me know if you need anything.”

Theria nodded, “Of course, Lord Vowrawn. Thank you for stopping by.”

He grinned and nodded as he stepped out the front door and it shut behind him.

She let out the breath she’d been holding, sneaking a glance to her bedroom door - it was latched shut at the moment, but she knew behind it was a suitcase packed with all her belongings. Posturing with the Dark Council was exhausting - especially when she’d had to speak to ten of the twelve in the last two days. Only Mortis and Imperius had failed to reach out to her in some way.

Each of them wanted to know how she was going to proceed.

In truth, her father had prepared her well for this day. Both of them knew that there were certain Council members who would turn against him, especially after the events with the False Revan and the short-lived alliance with the Republic. Eleutheria’s options were precisely three: run, stage a coup of the Council with as many allies as she could scrounge together, or let them betray her as well. She’d prepared extensively for all three options. But the combination of news concerning the Eternal Empire and Vowrawn’s veiled warnings only served to solidify her choice.

She had to get out of there before the Sith Empire came crashing down.

Could she have staged a coup and taken over the Dark Council? Perhaps. But there seemed to be no real reason to do that, considering it was the bloody Emperor himself who killed her father and not Ravage or Aruk. Gathering allies to do so would be difficult and arduous.

Could she stay, continue on in her life as if she wasn’t the largest target of the political machinations of the Sith Empire? Of course. It would not have been the first assassination attempt she’d survive. The Sith would need some sort of scapegoat in the coming months as Zakuul invaded more of their worlds - given it was her father’s expedition that failed, that angered the Eternal Empire, she would be the more likely target. More so than anyone else, given the Eternal Empire had not elaborated on their reasons for invading.

Which left her one option: leave Dromund Kaas, leave the Sith Empire altogether, leave her past and her future behind. She refused to say she was running. Running implied cowardice, that she couldn’t face the trials if she stayed. She _could_. But nothing was certain anymore. It was better, smarter, to forge her own path going forward.

She had to go.

\---

There was something so very freeing about piloting a speeder. Despite the fact that death lurked around basically every corner, and no racer ever played by any sort of rules, it was the first place Baili had discovered that she had control over her life. _She_ controlled the bike, _she_ controlled her speed, _she_ controlled her movements, _she_ controlled her destiny. She lived in a tiny studio apartment in the slums of Nar Shaddaa, but she’d earned this life.

Lilia had her arms around her from behind, the two of them speeding through the streets, winding around crowds of people. It was five in the evening, but there were already hundreds of people milling around, smoking or drinking or talking. Sometimes all three. Time was imaginary on Nar Shaddaa - you couldn’t see the sun from anywhere on the planet and all the light was manufactured anyway. The clock could read that it was three in the morning or noon or six in the evening and there would still be hundreds of people milling in the streets.

As they stopped in front of one of the cleaner-looking cantinas, Lilia dismounted and untied her bass from the back of the speeder. Baili locked the controls and powered it off, greeting Lilia’s smile with her own.

“I’m so glad you decided to come tonight,” the Mirialan beamed, slinging the instrument case over her shoulder and taking Baili’s hand.

“My favorite girl, playing at a classy institution? Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, reaching up and pecking her on the cheek.

Lilia squeezed her hand, “Seriously, though, I know how much these places make you uncomfortable. I won’t be upset if you have to leave before we’re done with our set. I’ll meet you outside or bum a ride home with Torg.”

Torg was the band’s Zeltron drumset player - easily bribed by food, and the only member to own a speeder with enough storage for more than one instrument.

Baili looked around - mostly there were just what appeared to be regulars bumming around the place. It was relatively quiet, the background music actually audible through the speakers. There was only one set of doors, but they were pretty close to the front where the band would be playing. Bathrooms were in the back, but even in a place without semen openly on the seats, that was always a gamble Baili preferred not to take.

“I’m good,” she replied, flashing a smile back to Lilia, “No poles around, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Lilia pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and hopped up on the stage to check out the equipment management had left for her, and Baili looked around for a suitable table. There was a booth across from the door, right up front by the stage that she chose as her perch for the evening. Easy access to an escape, close enough that she could make faces at her wife, and even relatively clean.

“And here I thought I was going to be the first tonight,” another voice called, followed by a grunt and a dull crack as an instrument case hit the door. Baili looked over at the newcomer - a rich violet-skinned Twi’lek, wearing all black with a knitted cap fitted with two extra holes in the back for their lekku to slide through - and recognized them as the band’s xantha player.

“Hey Ari,” Lilia called from the stage, sending a wave to the Twi’lek, “Baili and I got off work early, decided to come straight here.”

Ari looked around the room and grinned widely as they locked eyes with her, “Ah, the wife decided to come tonight? Always nice to see you, my dear.”

Baili smiled, “Hey, it’s not every night you guys play at an upstanding establishment.”

Ari laughed, pushing their sleeves up over their elbow, revealing swirling tattoos that went down to their wrists. They leaped lightly onto the stage and set up opposite Lilia, who was playing a riff and tuning her bass.

“Guys, look! My tits have _tassels_!”

Ari paled as the Rodian came over, shimmying her chest to show them, “Oh gods, Tsoono-”

“-That’s fucking amazing, _holy shit_!” Torg said from the door, hauling in his gear.

Tsoono was the band’s lead singer, a Rodian typically seen in fishnet tights, a leather mini skirt, and a black lace bralette. But tonight, the bralette did indeed have tassels hanging from the nipples that swayed as she moved.

The band set up their instruments and gear and merch table as more patrons arrived and gathered at the bar. It looked like it would turn out to be a pretty full house, which was a small miracle. Baili didn’t want to jinx it.

As Torg pulled out the last of his cymbals and attached it to the stand, a particularly average human barged in the door out of breath.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late-”

“I don’t believe for a second that you’re actually sorry,” Torg grumbled, but it was obvious that the human still couldn’t withstand the pheromones coming from him, “You never actually help set up, Geoff.”

Geoff blushed as he set down his instrument case and put together his kloo, hiding his face from the Zeltron. Baili chuckled from her seat and ordered a whiskey when the serving droid came over to the table - not that she would actually drink it, but it always looked better to have a drink in front of you at these establishments.

Tsoono tapped on the microphone to make sure it worked, giving a thumbs up to the sound technician in the back of the room.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and folks who know that binary genders are for losers,” she introduced grandly, “thank you all for coming tonight! Are you ready to have a good time?”

Baili cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered, joined by about a dozen others.

Tsoono frowned, “ _I said_ , are you ready to have a good time?”

Baili hollered again, louder this time. It didn’t matter how loud the crowd was, Tsoono was never satisfied with the initial reaction, but once she got the whole place cheering (albeit with different levels of sincerity), she cued Torg, who clicked his sticks together to set the beat.

“We are… Alien Underground!”

“And Geoff!” the human onstage yelled, but his addendum was lost as Lilia cranked out the first riff of their first song, Ari following in behind her soon after.

Baili made sure to cheer the loudest after every song, focusing on her wife to make sure Lilia knew how much she loved her. The band wasn’t going to go on any intergalactic tours, but Tsoono seemed inspired tonight - maybe because of the tassels on her nipples - and she sang and screamed her heart out. And it was obvious that the band all genuinely enjoyed playing with each other, which created a certain aura to the room. An aura that managed to cover up any anxiety Baili might have felt by sitting in a cantina.

Well, the aura was successful for the first hour of their performance. Just as Baili thought she was going to be able to handle the rest of the evening without incident, she spotted him: a hulking human male, cheeks red as embers and eyes popping out of his skull, hands clenched at his sides. There was a new burn scar that went up his exposed arm.

“ _Shit_ ,” she muttered, slinking down into her seat as she counted the goons that followed Slughorn into the cantina.

There were five of them total - Slughorn, two of his Devaronian mechanics, and two Gamorreans who looked like they had been hired specifically for this moment. They didn’t interrupt the band, but they did look around the room with five sets of beady eyes, clearly trying to intimidate everyone in the building.

Lilia saw them immediately, making eye contact with Baili even as she continued with the song.

She just nodded, made a quick motion to her, and watched the thugs approach the bar in the back of the room. Their backs were turned and they were far enough away that they may not notice her out of the corner of their eyes.

So Baili made a dash for it right out the front door.

\---

“Oh fucking shit, you motherfucking asshole! Argh, it’s not enough to barge into a gig, is it? Gotta jam my goddessdamn bike, too? Fucking Slughorn.”

Theria rounded a corner, still with her bag on her shoulders - she’d found a motel that locked its doors, but she still didn’t want to leave her things behind and risk losing what little she still had. She’d been on Nar Shaddaa for a week or so, enough time to make sure nobody from Dromund Kaas was keeping an eye on her, but not enough to have any sort of normalcy yet. So when she saw a bright pink Twi’lek fussing with the controls of her speeder, Theria didn’t really think anything of it - Nar Shaddaa was full of people with janky speeders that broke down or got locked down by the Hutts for having outstanding payments.

But a human busted out of the cantina with a growl, two Gamorreans behind him. The Twi’lek turned to him, hands shaking but her face set at a scowl. She looked up at him.

“What sort of shit is this, Slughorn?”

The human let out a guffaw and put a hand to his belly, “Oh, tiny girl, you know exactly what this is.”

“Is it cuz you lost the race yesterday? Because it’s not my fault you ran into the wall and got that gnarly burn up your arm.”

He grunted and put a hand to said arm, “See, though, a little birdy told me that it _was_ your fault. And I’m thinkin’-” he took two steps forward and put his fingers under her chin, bringing his voice down to a husky whisper, “ _you owe me_.”

The Twi’lek pushed him off, “I owe you _nothing_ , Slughorn. Whatever shit happened to your janky-ass speeder ain’t my fault.”

“Hey!” Theria called, jogging over to stand beside the Twi’lek, “What’s this all about?”

“What the fuck do you care, insect?” Slughorn spat, “This ain’t none of your business.”

Theria stood up straighter, looking him dead in the eyes while feeling for her lightsaber under her coat, “I’m making it my business. I won’t let you hurt her.”

The Gamorreans reached for blasters at their hips and Slughorn rolled up his sleeves, “Says who? The little bitch deserves it.”

Theria looked over to the Twi’lek and she nodded back to her, though her facade was starting to crumble a little bit.

Was it probably stupid to stare down a thug on the streets of Nar Shaddaa? Probably. Was it also probably a bad idea to butt into a fight when Theria was still technically on the run? Yeah. Was this going to tip off anyone who was looking for her? If there was anyone, then absolutely. But she’d seen enough bullies take advantage of people smaller than them - it was one of the lessons her father had taught her as a child. _Only weak men prey on those so far beneath them, Theria. Fight the bully, and become a symbol of adoration for the masses. Join him, and become their enemy. Respect the power of the masses, but do not succumb to it. One well placed good deed can serve you for a very long time._ Her father’s voice in her head almost made her cry, but she took a deep breath.

The Gamorreans grumbled and growled behind Slughorn, itching for some action. They held considerable restraint in waiting for Slughorn to cue them, but they clearly relied far too heavily on the human to guide them. All the easier to take them down, then.

The only warning Theria needed was a little head bob from Slughorn and her lightsaber was out of her coat and extended in front of her, its blade a fierce and angry fuchsia.

“What the fuck? Twinky, where the fuck did you get a Sith!?”

The Twi’lek shuddered and took two steps back, about ready to dive behind her bike.

Theria ignored her fear for now, holding out the lightsaber in front of her, “I suggest you leave her alone.”

“Fuck you,” he replied, spitting on the ground in front of her, “I’m not giving up on revenge because some snotty witch showed up. Come on, boys!”

It was a matter of seconds before all three of them were laying facedown on the cruddy curb, faces and hands and bodies scorched and burned by Theria’s lightsaber. Idiots.

Two Devaronians poked their heads out of the cantina, but wisely slinked back in without a word to either Theria or the Twi’lek.

“Hey, uh, you’re not gonna use that thing on me, are you?” the Twi’lek asked, keeping out of Theria’s immediate reach.

She immediately disengaged her lightsaber and put it back on her hip, shaking her head, “Of course not. That would ruin the point of coming to your aid, wouldn’t it?”

The Twi’lek looked down at her feet, “Uh, yeah. I guess it would. Thanks for that, by the way. Don’t think I could have taken those three guys on my own.”

Theria nodded.

“Oh stars, Baili!” A green blur rushed by her and embraced the Twi’lek, picking her up off the ground, “We heard the fighting from inside. Are you okay?”

The Twi’lek nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, thanks to her.”

She pointed to Theria, who gave her a nod in return.

“An upstanding citizen in this part of the sector? Never thought I’d see the day,” the Mirialan woman said, looking Theria over with perceptive yellow eyes, never for a moment letting go of Baili.

Suddenly Theria felt very small, smaller than she’d ever remembered feeling, except maybe when she was inspected by the eyes of the entire Dark Council for the first time. But that was more than a decade ago now.

The Mirialan seemed to find something she liked, though, as she extended her hand out, “I’m Lilia, thanks for saving my wife. This crappy moon wouldn’t be the same without her.”

Theria nodded again, hesitating for a moment before she took the woman’s hand, “Theria. And it was the least I could do. That guy looked like an asshole.”

Baili snorted, “Now more than ever. You certainly did a number on them, sis.”

It took Theria aback how casually the Twi’lek threw around the word “sis”. Joking or not, they’d known her for all of five minutes and were declaring her family. Was this normal? Back on Dromund Kaas, not even your family was family most of the time. You couldn’t trust anyone.

Lilia looked down at Slughorn’s remains and then back to Theria, “You got someplace to stay, Theria?”

She heard the air leave Baili’s lungs as she choked out a surprised and alarmed breath. Lilia looked at her.

“Not even gonna talk about letting a stranger into our home first?” she said, coughing until she could breathe right again, “She could kill us in our sleep.”

Lilia just side-eyed her, “Really? The person who just faced down a man who was going to kill you? She can’t be more than a teenager, we can’t just let her wander the streets.”

Baili’s eyes immediately went to the lightsaber hilt beneath Theria’s coat, fear absolutely radiating off of her.

“I have a room down at The Star,” Theria replied quickly, “but thank you for the offer.”

“Let us at least buy you a drink,” Lilia said, “The band still has three or four more songs left in us.”

Theria nodded appreciatively and followed the two women inside the bar.

\---

Six months later, and Theria was a staple down at the speeder shop, and she was already a capable mechanic. Fixing things just came naturally to her. She’d never be the mechanic that Lilia was, but then again, Lilia wouldn’t ever wield a lightsaber, either. It all evened out in the end.

The folks at the shop had taken to her immediately, the band doted on her as if she was their adult daughter, and even Baili herself found that having Theria around was nice.

She still couldn’t get the image of the pulsing lightsaber out of her head, though.

As far as she knew, Theria hadn’t even ignited it again since that night, but it didn’t stop Baili from looking for its hilt on her belt every day. It didn’t go unnoticed by the Sith, either. Occasionally they’d bump into each other in the break room, and whoever was in there would immediately find an excuse to vacate it. Baili had taken to walking around the shop outside, getting “fresh air” (no air on this fucking moon was “fresh”, it was barely even filtered) during her breaks. Theria would find reasons to work on the other end of the workshop.

Still, she was nice enough to the customers and other workers. Lilia adored her. She was confident, held her head up high, and refused to bend to the assholes who flaunted their way through. But she never hesitated to give a hand when someone needed to jack up a bike. It was hard not to like her, even knowing she could slice you in half in any moment.

The only time her image ever slipped was when some other bigshot Sith and her boyfriend came in. She was blonde, pale wavy hair reaching just below her chin, corrupted yellow eyes silently threatening everyone. The man with her was dark-skinned and far more friendly. Baili had seen him around once or twice before, but he wasn’t a regular customer or anything.

Theria had ducked into the break room two minutes before they came in, only coming out when the couple was fully occupied by the things they were buying. And even then, she donned a welding mask and refused to speak to anyone until they were gone, strategically moving around the room to avoid them.

Anyone less paranoid than Baili wouldn’t have even noticed.

“I take it they aren’t friends of yours?” she asked once the pair had left, taking the seat across from Theria and pretending to examine another welding helmet.

Theria shrugged, “I was never encouraged to have friends.”

Baili looked at the girl and down at the table and back to her, hoping there would be further explanation. There was not.

“Uhh, alright,” she said instead, “You want me to keep them from coming in again? With my rights as co-owner?”

Theria shook her head, “No, that would only make it worse.”

Against her better judgement, Baili lifted up the front of the welding mask and made Theria look into her eyes. They hid far more fear and guilt and grief than Baili expected.

“Make what worse, Theria?”

She shook her head and forced the helmet down again, but she surprised Baili when she said, “Not here. After our shifts are over.”

\---

Theria met both Baili and Lilia at the bar where they’d first met. She figured Baili would just tell Lilia anyway, so better there’s no misunderstanding and just bring her along.

There were always Sith on Nar Shaddaa; they liked to let off steam here by taking contract killings, drinking themselves into oblivion, or melting into the background of a tireless world. They congregated in certain areas that Theria typically avoided anyway, and so they never really posed much of a threat to her before. But seeing Minister Beniko that far deep in the slums had set off a deep panic inside her. Immediately she felt unhinged, as if even looking in her direction would be enough for the woman to recognize her.

The moment passed without incident, but it still unnerved Theria to the point where Baili had noticed. And if Force-blind Baili noticed, who knows how loudly her fear rang out…

She couldn’t keep herself a secret anymore.

Sitting in one of the booths in the back of the room, as far away from the other patrons as possible, she threw back a shitty Corellian brandy and held back a gag as it burned down the back of her throat. Baili and Lilia slid in the other side and ordered gin and tonics like the responsible and level-headed adults they were.

Theria ordered another shitty brandy.

“So,” she started, feeling totally unlike the stoic woman who faced down nine members of the Dark Council and lied to their faces. The truth was harder to muster.

Baili nodded when she hesitated, “Take your time.”

Lilia held her wife’s hand under the table, remaining silent.

Why was she hesitating? What did she have to fear? She was the daughter of Darth Marr, for gods’ sake! She could kill everything in this room before they even had time to sound the alarm! No one here could truly threaten her!

But she looked across the table at the two women who had taken her in, who were almost old enough to be her mothers, who had given her a purpose and a place. And she feared they would turn her away. She feared she would be alone again.

“You know already, or have figured out, that I was once a Sith,” she began, taking a deep breath and pausing between each sentence to reign in her fear, “For all intents and purposes, I suppose I still am one. Once the Emperor was killed, I fled the Sith Empire and came here. There are people back on Dromund Kaas who would very much like to parade my head through the streets. Nar Shaddaa was a place to hide, to stay out of sight. But the war with Zakuul has taken its toll on everyone, I suppose. More and more people are being pushed out to the fringes of the galaxy. And the more people - the more Sith - who come through your workshop, the higher chance there is that I’ll be dragged back.”

Baili stared at her, trying to read her body language to find the exact truth. Lilia sat beside her, still quiet as she processed the information.

Eventually, the Mirialan spoke up, “Why do they want your head, Theria? Because you left?”

She stared down at her glass of brandy, swirled it around a few times, shaking her head, “Because I am Eleutheria Marr, daughter of Darth Marr.”

Both women were silent for a good ninety seconds, silently communing with each other and probably their gods. Theria just tried not to make eye contact. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Baili nodded sharply, the movement bringing Theria’s attention back to her.

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” she said strongly, “There’s a reason the Sith never took Nar Shaddaa, and we won’t let them have anything on it now.”

\---

Amazingly, without Slughorn around, it almost became downright lawful to race modified speeders. They’d brought in more money than ever, both from winning more races and also from more racers asking for their shop to repair their speeders. Baili and Lilia had even managed to save up to buy a bigger apartment, one with _heat_. Life was actually on the up for them.

They never again mentioned Theria’s secret, never told a soul what she’d revealed to them. But they did always miraculously seem to shut down just as any Sith Lord wandered in. A few of them almost got nasty about it, but Lilia could always manage to charm them and convince them she was doing them a favor by not helping them. She could flex her arms and half of the Sith who walked in were putty at her feet anyway.

Neither the blonde Sith nor her male partner returned to the shop, though at some point word got out that she was a disavowed minister and he was a defected Zakuulan rebel. That seemed to ease Theria’s fears that she would be found out. And she became a delight after that. She was still serious, but could deliver a joke deadpan like a pro. Frequently, the whole workshop would be in stitches after she made some off-handed comment.

The next six years went by without hardly a blip, really. Zakuul eventually found its own destruction, an intergalactic alliance rose and fell, the Sith Empire was now ruled by a woman and it actually didn’t seem quite as terrible as it did before. The Republic was still in shambles, but when was the Republic _not_ in shambles?

So it was a surprise when Theria came up to Baili one afternoon as they were closing the shop.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“Well good,” Baili replied as she locked the door, “Everyone else already has for the night.”

“No, Baili,” Theria pushed, “I’m leaving _Nar Shaddaa_.”

She looked her over, trying to gauge if she was being serious or if this was the lead up to some punchline.

“You’re serious?”

Theria nodded, “I have to get closure on my father’s death. Up until now, I didn’t really know how to do that.”

“But now you do?”

She nodded again.

Baili stepped forward and hugged her tightly, “You’ll always be welcome here, Theria.”

When they separated a few minutes later, there were definitely tear stains on Baili’s coat.

“Do you need a shuttle?”

Theria shook her head, “I got one.”

“Provisions?”

Theria nodded, smiling a little, “Three months’ worth.”

“Spare parts? Don’t trust those cagey spacer mechanics, they’ll rip you off faster than they’ll sell you their mother’s entrails.”

Theria chuckled, “I’m good. I’ve got this, Baili. I’m not the teenager you took in six years ago.”

Baili nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, “True. Still. Be safe out there, and come back if shit goes sour.”

“I will.”

\---

Odessen was beautiful even from space. Deep canyons carved into the planet’s surface, leaving in their wake rippling ridges and rushing rivers. Glaciers adorned both poles, but there were trails of snow-peaked mountains lining the entire planet. There was one large ocean, but countless lakes and seas scattered across the land’s surface.

It was so untouched by sapient beings, completely free of any long-standing structure save the Alliance Base. Surrounding the built-in network of buildings were a handful of small colonies - refugees who had taken asylum on Odessen and didn’t have anywhere else to go.

But Theria didn’t have any interest in making contact with refugees or the remains of the Alliance. She navigated her shuttle to the dark side of the planet, landing on a small plateau that dropped off into a terrifyingly long waterfall. As she disembarked into the darkness, she stood right along the edge, listening to the wind rushing at her, the water crashing against the rocks below. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The air was crisp, washing a coolness over her skin, making her arms and neck prickle at the sensation.

She reached out with the Force, searching for the same presence that had called her here. She stood on that cliff and breathed deeply.

And she was washed over with his presence.

_Father._

“Hello, my darling Eleutheria,” came a voice all-too-familiar, long gone, heard only on recordings for the last seven years.

She nearly tumbled over the side of the cliff, pushed back by a forceful wind to send her sprawling on her back instead. As she opened her eyes and found her bearings again, a form manifested in front of her.

Darth Marr. Still clad in his armor, spikes protruding off his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. But his mask hung from his belt, and he smiled proudly at her.

She broke down into tears.

\---

“Anri? What the hell are you doing?”

The yellow Twi’lek shook her head, rifle still in hand, “We have a lot to catch up on, _numa._ But we need you on Ossus. Bring your wife if you want, we can use her hands, too, from what I hear. You know what? Bring your whole damn shop, I don’t care!”

“What? Why? What’s going on?” Baili shook her head. She’d known Anri since they were children on Quesh, transporting adrenals to the Imperial Outpost. But they’d lost contact once Baili had been moved to Tatooine. She looked at her now in her Imperial armor, black and red and threatening.

Anri frowned, “I can’t say over holo. But you know I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important. You’re the only one I’ve got left in the galaxy, Bai. I need you on my side.”

She looked down at the datapad in her hands, halfway through a letter. Lilia hovered in the doorway, just out of Anri’s line of sight, with a cup of caf in her hands.

“I can bring anyone?”

“Sure, so long as they aren’t a Jedi.”

Baili smirked and chuckled a little, “Not quite.”

She typed the last words to Theria as Anri was hanging up:

_Something big is happening on Ossus. I know Odessen is important to you, but… come? I’ll feel better with you there. Lilia will, too._

_Love,_  
_Bai’liye_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to Defira for once again letting me steal her characters! Lilia Ruree is her second generation Bounty Hunter, and the wife of Bai'liye.


	4. The Exiled Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sith Inquisitor - Chaf’ilsi’merdil

Filsi hated Sarvchi. She wasn’t a hateful person, not really, but so much of Sarvchi was fake and pretentious and petty, and she was exhausted by it. She’d been privately tutored not only in maths, sciences, histories, philosophies, and languages, but also in the art of deception, bribery, flattery, and even seduction should it be required. All in the name of family and power.

She leaned against the railing of the balcony, overlooking the sparkling purple waters of the bay, the red suns setting in unison off in the north. The pink and orange light bounced off the icy glaciers, creating a cacophony of colors behind her family’s mansion. She put her weight on her elbows, letting her wrists droop off the front of the railing as she took it all in. Next to Csilla, Sarvchi had the greatest concentration of pure glacial ice in the galaxy. Technically, Hoth had more ice, but that had more to do with the weather patterns and snowstorms than ice formations. Ilum was a close third, but Sarvchi had about three hundred thousand more cubed meters of glacial ice than-

“Dearest Filsi, are you out here daydreaming again?”

Her heart seized in her chest as she turned her head around to see her mother, standing tall and straight, hands folded demurely over her stomach, every single gray hair placed carefully and precisely around her head. Her rich blue skin and beady red eyes were covered in makeup, including a gold leaf blush over her cheeks.

Filsi just shook her head, “No, Mother. I am remembering Grandfather’s geography lessons.”

Her mother just scoffed, “That old man should spend more time teaching you how to speak at a soiree than how to tell one bloody rock from another.”

She didn’t bother to correct her. She just kept looking out over the horizon, watching as the suns disappeared behind the mountains, casting their early shadow over their home.

It didn’t take more than ten seconds for her mother to begin fidgeting with Filsi’s dress, straightening her necklace, brushing nonexistent dust off the fabric, tucking locks of hair, pulling faces the whole while. It took everything in Filsi not to sigh - that would have been grounds for severe punishment. So she let her mother push and pull and twist and huff without so much as a deep exhale in response, fighting every instinct to run or squirm out of reach.

“Have you taken your medication today? We can’t have rumors flying about like Clan Inrokini, you know.”

Filsi nodded, even though it was lie, “Yes, Mother.”

“Good. We can’t have the whole clan knowing we have a disgrace in the family,” she commented dryly, plucking a strand of hair from Filsi’s shoulder.

Filsi said nothing in reply.

But she was gone the next morning.

\---

Slipping into a cargo ship was relatively easy. Her family had not yet noticed her disappearance, and she still had access to her own bank accounts. Getting on board was as easy as slipping a few credits into the metaphorical pockets of the dock guard. Folks rarely questioned members of the Chaf Clan regardless, but the last thing Filsi wanted was for her flight to be traceable. Not that they’d really go looking for her anyway, being the abomination she was. The only reason to bring her back would be to punish her.

She snuck into one of the cargo bays unnoticed by the crew, settled into an empty corner, and folded her arms around her knees, wondering how long this trek was going to be…

She had a suitcase with her that she put behind her to lay against. She didn’t bring much - just a couple datapads of books to read, a change of clothes, toiletries, and a stuffed Wampa her grandfather had given her as a child. Her mother had told her dozens of times that it wasn’t befitting a lady of the court to hold onto such trivial things, but she’d just hidden it instead of actually throwing it out. Filsi pressed it between her chest and her legs as she curled up in her corner, willing herself to disappear.

Over the next few days, a couple times crew members wandered into her room looking lost or checking numbers of boxes, but they never seemed to find her little corner, always going around her or stopping before they got to a place where they could see her. Filsi thanked the ice for that, though there were a few times when they deliberately took a longer path around her spot, which confused her immensely. The crew was entirely Chiss from what she could tell - and Chiss were nothing if not logical and precise. To take a wide arc around a corner for no reason, well… it just didn’t make sense.

She’d actually convinced herself at one point that they all knew she was there, but were avoiding her. She was convinced her parents would walk in at any moment, drag her out of the ship, and give her the lashing she deserved.

And when there was a loud clank from above and the whole freighter got pushed out of hyperspace, she was sure this was when she’d been found out and hauled back to Sarvchi.

But no one came for her.

There was gunfire and screaming from the decks above her, the sounds of the Chiss crew and some others whose voices she didn’t quite recognize from between layers of metal. That did not sound at all like something her parents would do. They wouldn’t sacrifice other Chiss for the actions of their daughter. And they surely wouldn’t hire an outsider to do the job.

Slowly, she stood up and stuffed Wampy the Wampa back into her suitcase, giving him a little kiss on the head as she did so.

Truthfully, Filsi wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t armed, and she wasn’t exactly in peak condition to fight, as she’d only stolen a few packages of crackers and three ration bars from the small kitchen on board. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.

Well, she needed this ship to survive the trip to Dromund Kaas, and to do that, she needed the crew alive. So whatever was going on up there, she needed to help. She’d had some martial arts training back on Sarvchi, as well as self-defense. She’d have the element of surprise - at least at first. Though it may not help that the Chiss crew didn’t know she was there, either. Well, that was just a risk she was going to have to take.

She looked out in the hallway, peering around the open door. There was an alien down here, patrolling the hallway, whistling as they went. Their skin was a reddish brown, stark features outlined in the shadows, two horns on their head. Or, wait. One and a half horns. One of them had been broken off at the root. She searched her mind for any connections, deciding the stranger was a Devaronian. They were of average height for that species, muscular despite their sinewy appearance. Well armored, but clearly a little distracted. She could use that to her advantage.

She slid back inside the cargo bay and waited for the Devaronian to pass by her again, willing herself to blend into the background, not even noticeable. They didn’t even blink an eye as they went by, whistling again and grumbling about being sent on board some sort of death ship, and the cargo wasn’t even that good. As soon as she was sure they wouldn’t see her, Filsi leaped onto their back and pressed her hand as hard as she could to their face, covering nose and mouth. They were squirmy, though, and holding on was no mean feat as they thrashed her around and slammed into the walls, struggling to breathe. Eventually, she felt their strength waning though, and as they passed out onto the floor, she landed gracefully on her feet, already planning her next move.

The hallway was dark, but she kept to the most shadowed corners in case anyone took her by surprise. Nobody did. It seemed they’d trusted the one Devaronian on the cargo level.

Upstairs was a completely different story, however. There were dozens of fighters, both Chiss and alien, and to hide from all of them would have been impossible. Instead, Filsi jumped right in, disarming a bright green alien she recognized as a Mirialan - they yelped in surprise before quickly taking the pistol off their belt and switching targets to Filsi herself. It freed up a few of the Chiss to focus on other targets, but Filsi had almost no time to prepare for another attack, wincing her eyes shut and throwing out her arms in a last-ditch effort to push the blast away.

The Mirialan yelped again, “What the fuck?! They’ve got _more_ Sith on board this wacky-ass ship? What are they even hiding? Gault, what’s down there? Gault? Gault, so help me, I will beat your ass if you don’t answer me!”

Filsi opened her eyes again, expecting to see blaster wounds through her arms.

But the three-meter circle around her was completely empty. Like something had pushed back everyone around her, Chiss and aliens alike.

And they were all staring at her.

_Ice below, what had she done?_

Before she even had time to process it, though, she had blasters firing on her from all sides. Chiss and aliens alike thought she was their enemy, and she’d just made herself both known and a target. She put her arms out again, but less forcefully this time. Her mother had said she’d been tainted, given powers no one should have. Powers that could harm herself and the Clan. Stars, what if her mother was right? What if she was hurting them?

She curled up into herself, holding back sobs as she fell to the floor, blaster fire ringing all around her, but none of them touching her skin. But Filsi hardly even noticed that.

What she did notice was the powerful and radiant figure who stalked into the battlefield around her. They weren’t Chiss, but obviously weren’t with the pirates, either. They were tall, taller than two meters, wearing a diplomat’s robe and a mask over their eyes. A Miraluka? Or a blind human? Their skin was rich and beautiful golden-brown, lips painted black. Filsi felt the shield around her begin to tremble as she looked up to the other person.

“Rise, little one,” they said, voice strong and even, “Now is not the time to cower.”

The Mirialan piped up again, her voice cutting through the din of the fight, “Now is _definitely_ the time to cower! Somebody find Gault and let’s get out of here!”

The person in front of her held out her hand, offered it to her. Filsi looked at them hesitantly, hand trembling as she took it. She was hauled to her feet with hardly any effort, feeling a force pushing her upright more than the strength of the person in front of her.

“Come,” they said, “It is not often a girl of your strength evades my notice for so long.”

Filsi didn’t know what to say to that, so she stared at her feet instead, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Keep your head up, child. It is unbefitting of a Sith to fear.”

\---

In the end, Korriban was just another prison. Filsi had switched out the beautiful glacial views and shining sunlight for freezing dust storms and towering tombs. She was still told where to go, what to do, what not to do, how to look, who to talk to. Still punished with the same severity when she failed.

The tall and powerful stranger - Zaireyi Mitak, she’d introduced herself shortly after their meeting - had brought her to Korriban to be trained as a Sith. She’d explained that Filsi had Force powers, and that they were not to be feared, but to be controlled and embraced. The Chiss did not understand the ally the Force could be, but the Sith would embrace her.

The Sith had not embraced her. To them, she was just another filthy alien, unfit to be there or to survive the trials. There was an older Overseer - Harkun was his name - who had taken Filsi to be trained in her time at the Academy. He’d flinched at the sight of Zaireyi, bowed so low he could have kissed her boots, and stuttered in response to her demands. But he didn’t stutter to her.

“Come on, Filth, surely you can do better than _that_ ,” he egged her on in the training arena, stalking behind her as she faced off against one of the training droids.

She’d corrected him the first five times he’d called her Filth, assuming he’d made a mistake and misread her name. He didn’t misread it.

So she’d taken to silence yet again. Better to show them no emotion than the wrong one. But even then, no emotion seemed to be the wrong answer.

“What are you, some sort of _Jedi?_ Feel your hatred, use your anger to fuel your attacks.”

She’d heard the words “Jedi” and “Sith” in her tutoring back on Sarvchi. Powerful magicians who had been dealt their powers at birth. Unnatural beings who used those powers to gain control, influence, and power over others. It was one of the things that made the Chiss Ascendancy superior to the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic - everyone earned their rank within their family. And there were absolutely no Force-users.

She learned far more of the Jedi from Harkun and the other Overseers: they were cowards who refused to indulge in anything, and for that, their power suffered. They were stunted, illusioned morons who thought they could bring peace to the galaxy by fighting the inevitable. By going to war, by fighting, by becoming the very thing they swore they’d never be, they were going to achieve their goals. The Sith would never be so hypocritical. Sith drew on their power, they used their influence to shape the galaxy. They were not afraid to fight or to call it what it was. Their emotions made them stronger, and they were all called to lead.

“Does the pain frighten you? Or does it fuel you? Answer me, Filth!”

Pain was always the punishment. Emotional, mental, physical. It didn’t matter what kind of pain. Pain was seared into her mind, and memories of Korriban would always be tainted by it.

By the time she got to her bunk at night, Filsi was too exhausted to talk to anyone. The other girls would sometimes talk into the night, but Filsi never joined them. Harkun kept assuring her that she would be dead within a week - what did it matter that she made friends here? They’d only stab her in the back anyway.

The only respite she ever had were the hours she was expected to study Sith philosophy and history in the library. She sat down at the table across from a human girl, about her age, with pale skin, blue eyes, and striking red tattoos on her chin and neck. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sophisticated yet messy bun, curly strands falling around her ears.

“Hello, Filsi,” the girl greeted without looking up from her datapad, but shot her a small grin.

“Hello, Eralei,” the Chiss replied with a nod.

Eralei looked up at the datapads Filsi carried and pointed to one with her stylus, “The complete works of Mitth’ron’idoni? I thought you of everyone would know what a pile of rubbish his utilitarian views are.”

Filsi allowed herself a small smile as she flicked on the screen, “Because no human has ever had rubbish philosophies before.”

She laughed quietly with her hand to her mouth, “Touche, my friend. What else do you have in there?”

There was only one person Filsi was ever close to on that planet: Eralei Audroti. Eralei was studying primarily under a different Overseer than Filsi, being primed as an apprentice of Lord Malora rather than Darth Occlus. But they met in the library during their spare free time, and they sat at one of the tables together. They didn’t speak much, but they didn’t need to. They were both from noble families, although Eralei was from Alderaan rather than Sarvchi, both marked by their abilities. Eralei was expected to become a Sith Lord and to return to rule, given tattoos on her chin to mark her as Force-sensitive. Filsi, of course, had been marked as an outcast, given medication to stifle her Force powers and told to never let her facade slip. Neither of them felt they belonged on Korriban, though neither were stupid enough to say it out loud, either.

So they studied together, reading separate books at the same table.

And if they took the long way back to their rooms to kiss in one of the darker corners of the Academy, well. That was just an added bonus, wasn’t it? They’d been told to pursue their passions, hadn’t they?

Eralei tasted sweet, a hint of her favorite chocolate lingering in the corners of her mouth. She was strong and yet soft, rough and yet gentle, mischievous and yet honest. Every word from her mouth Filsi knew was true. Every emotion flowing through her was true. Every desperate kiss was true.

“Eralei?” she whispered, so quietly she almost couldn’t hear her own voice.

She replied by kissing her neck even more fiercely, speaking between breaths, “What is it, dear heart?”

Filsi breathed deeply, trying to stifle the aroused moans from escaping, hands clutching at the back of Eralei’s head as their hips met.

_What happens when we’re forced to leave?_

_Will you love me even when we’re apart?_

_Is this the first time you’ve loved another person like this?_

_Will the Overseers torture us for this?_

_Will what we have last?_

So many questions, unable to get any of them out of her head.

But Eralei felt her tense and immediately stopped teasing her, gently rubbing her sides with her thumbs and looking deeply into her crimson-red eyes.

“Dear Filsi, I will always be with you,” she said quietly, apparently reading her thoughts as she took her hands and brought them to her mouth gently.

“But they will separate us sooner or later,” Filsi replied, dipping her head so it touched Eralei’s.

She hummed thoughtfully, “They’ll never separate our hearts.”

Filsi had never known anyone as honest as Eralei Audroti. For all the manipulations and politics of her upbringing, she was always pure in her intentions. Filsi had been taught to read other people’s movements, their expressions, to understand their intentions. Eralei was an open book, and it was like Filsi was truly breathing for the first time around her. There were no games, no manipulations, no pain. Just Eralei. Just two young hearts beating as one.

She expected that Eralei would be taken from her. Expected that the Overseers would find out about their budding romance and use it against them. The better to motivate both of them.

But when the day came that Eralei’s shy smile did not greet Filsi at their usual studying spot, there was no other explanation. Someone had found out and had forced them to break it off. Harkun never said anything about it, and Filsi didn’t bring it up.

It didn’t even occur to her that the very next day, she’d also be leaving Korriban for good.

\---

Dromund Kaas was not beautiful, but at least it was not the prison Korriban was. The perpetual downpours soaked her through in a matter of seconds, but at least she’d been able to trade the acolyte’s training garb for something a bit more to her tastes. It still wasn’t anything flashy, and not at all like the crystal-laden gowns of her childhood, but she still felt far more comfortable in them than in the poorly-fit training onesies she’d worn for the last two years.

Her hair was up in a bun, but she let the loose ends fall from her ears like Eralei always had. She’d escaped both Sarvchi and Korriban. She may have only been an apprentice now, and she may have lost the single friend and confidante she’d ever known, but a lonely apprentice had far more freedom than a nobleman’s child or an alien acolyte. Oh, how her mother would disapprove. Not only had her eldest daughter been Force-sensitive, but she fled the family unannounced and joined the Sith! And now her hair was falling out of her bun as she went to meet a Dark Lord! She allowed herself a smile for that.

The smile very quickly faded as she took a step inside the Sith Sanctuary and felt herself bombarded by the Force powers of everyone around her. They were projecting, of course, their ego and bravado needed to show the galaxy how powerful they were. Or how powerful they _thought_ they were. Most of them were just putting on a front. But it didn’t make it any less overwhelming. Filsi had been sequestered for so long on Force-blind Sarvchi, and the other acolytes rarely had the ability to project their powers. To be surrounded like this was… startling, to say the least.

But the woman she was meeting was easy to spot, despite the fact that she did not project her strength so loudly.

Zaireyi Mitak held a datapad in front of her, running her hands over the raised nubs. Without so much as a word, she beckoned Filsi over to her with a wave of her hand. It took all of Filsi’s self-control to walk over with her head held high, keeping her gait smooth and even. Sith posturing was not dissimilar to nobility posturing. Walk with a purpose, but not with a fire under your ass. You deserve to be in this room, you are _better_ than everyone in this room.

But the Miraluka just shook her head, “There is no need for the facade before me, little one. You are my apprentice, not my rival.”

Filsi nodded but didn’t change her posture at all, “I was under the impression that every Sith is every other Sith’s rival.”

She laughed, “Perhaps, for the lesser men who allow paranoia and fear to guide them. But I know for a fact I have more strength and far more influential allies than they do. Than _you_ do. We both know where we stand in this relationship, little one, and we need not pretend that we are anything that we aren’t.”

The Chiss nodded again, “As you say, Master.”

Zaireyi turned and entered the room before them, “Come, there is someone you must meet before we continue your training.”

It was easy to fall in with Zaireyi, staying a step to her left and about half a pace behind her. Every movement on Filsi’s part was calculated, drawing on her lessons from back on Sarvchi. Zaireyi was confident and just as powerful as she remembered. She stood tall and straight, having switched out her diplomat’s robe and functional pants for a more decorated and elegant dress with a floor-length coat and high collar. Her hair was shaved close to her head, mask covered both eye sockets, lips painted black. She was every inch the same intimidating woman Filsi had first met on that freighter all those years ago. And as they ascended the steps into the hall of the Dark Council, Filsi finally realized just how influential Zaireyi’s allies were.

Before her stood Darth Acina, surrounded by a few lackeys and the Minister of Sith Intelligence, a blonde human woman Filsi recognized as Lana Beniko.

Minister Beniko bowed her farewell and made her exit without so much as a glance at either Zaireyi or Filsi.

Acina’s serious expression fell at once in the presence of the Miraluka. She immediately ordered the others out of the room before she moved forward to embrace the other woman.

“Ah, I see your apprentice has arrived on Dromund Kaas,” Acina noted, nodding in Filsi’s direction.

Zaireyi nodded, “Indeed. Acina, meet my apprentice, Chaf’ilsi’merdil. Filsi, meet my wife, Darth Acina.”

\---

Zakuul’s attack on Korriban came just a month later. Six months after that, Darth Marr and the Emperor’s Wrath were killed somewhere in Wild Space. The Sith Emperor was gone.

Those left on the Dark Council promptly died or ran into hiding. Darths Rictus and Aruk were killed in the short war with the Eternal Empire, both on already-broken worlds. Darth Vowrawn stayed long enough to sign a treaty with Zakuul to stop their bombardment of Imperial planets, but disappeared immediately thereafter. Darths Ravage, Mortis, and Zhorrid hadn’t even remained that long, claiming the Sith Empire was no more and they held no allegiance to whatever remained. Darths Nox and Imperius were somewhere in Wild Space, but hadn’t made contact in nearly a year. Even Minister Beniko flew off and left Sith Intelligence in the hands of a Rattataki woman.

Which left Darth Acina and Darth Occlus to pick up the crumbled planets under an oppressive tyrant.

And beside both of them, from the shadows, was a young Chiss woman. Unknown to most in the Empire, Filsi worked beside the two older women, and reshaped the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think she's on AO3 yet, but the lovely Eralei Audroti belongs to tumblr user cipherr, who is absolutely wonderful and delightful and I cannot thank her enough for letting me absolutely murder Eralei's canon timeline so I can steal her.
> 
> Zaireyi Mitak is my canon Darth Occlus, married to Acina. She doesn't take the title Empress, but everyone knows that she's just as powerful and influential as Acina.


	5. The Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperial Agent - Kell’di Lohk  
> Imperial Agent - Lara Rutau  
> Sith Inquisitor - Idrik Lohk

“Lara, my love,” she called quietly, her hand rested gently on her wife’s arm, thumb rubbing over the veins in her wrist.

Lara turned her head, bloodshot blue eyes ringed in dark circles. Her straight chestnut hair, normally pulled back very properly, now hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled a little and closed her eyes again, taking her hand.

The two women were alone in a room in the Kaas City Hospital.

“I’m sorry, Kell’di,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Kell’di leaned down and kissed Lara’s forehead, “It’s alright.”

Lara shook her head, reaching up to trace the tattoo lines on her face, staring into her dark gray eyes. Kell’di moved her hand to cover Lara’s, tracing the loose curls of hair and the patterns in her starlit eyes. She was a recovering addict, a human, an absolute disgrace to Kell’di’s mother, and she was the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.

But Lara shook her head, “It’s not alright. I can’t keep making you do this.”

Her face fell and she fidgeted with one of her earrings.

Lara squeezed her hand, “Kell, I can’t make you do this anymore. I have to straighten myself out.”

Kell’di immediately touched her wedding band with her thumb, rubbing it subconsciously, afraid of what her next words might be. How many times had she heard those words throughout her life - _it’s not you, it’s me. You deserve better than me. Don’t follow me, you cannot come where I must go._ Every single ex she had had said some variation of those words to her, trying to lessen the blow of the breakup. Her heart wrenched just at the memory.

But Lara, lovely Lara, just laughed, “I’m not leaving you, Kell. I can see you panicking.”

Kell’di let out the breath she’d held and forced a smile.

Lara squeezed her hand again, “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a drug problem to stop me from loving you. I promised you I’d stay with you forever, and I have no intention of breaking that promise.” She rubbed Kell’di’s hand with her thumb, her voice softening as she continued, “But… I do need help. More help than just you could or should give me. I’ve let these scars ruin our lives for damn well long enough.”

Kell’di reached down and kissed the burn scars on the right side of Lara’s face gently. She’d been caught in an explosion four years ago while on an undercover op on Balmorra. The rebels she’d infiltrated hadn’t had any sort of real medical facility and she refused to pull out and come home. The only sort of aid they could give her was pain medication and a bandage. Six months later she’d returned to Dromund Kaas and they’d fitted her with a prosthetic eye and an implant to manage the pain of it, but the damage had already been done.

She’d attempted rehab on her own handfuls of times, sometimes letting Kell’di know ahead of time, sometimes letting her wife come home to see her unconscious on the floor after she’d gone into withdrawals. Intelligence refused to do anything about it, letting Lara take sick days while she was in the hospital but otherwise essentially told her to figure it out. _Everyone goes through something. You just have to keep working._ Kell’di was so mad on Lara’s behalf she almost quit on the spot in Keeper’s office.

Then Imperial Intelligence fell apart, became Sith Intelligence, was led by a Sith Lord, and everything changed so fast, they hardly had time to bring up Lara’s addiction again. Not to HR, anyway.

“Already talked to Shara about it,” Lara continued, “she said I could take a medical leave of absence, that Beniko would approve it. I’ve got a couple places in mind I could go, but I think… I think I just need to get out of Kaas City for awhile. Clear my head, too.”

Kell’di tilted her head, “Did you get this all worked out in your sleep?”

Lara smiled, “Nah, been figuring it out for a couple weeks, just didn’t want to get your hopes up before it was all settled.”

“How long will you be gone?”

She shrugged, “Until I’m better, I guess. Could be weeks, or months.”

Kell’di held her wife’s hands tightly and breathed deeply, “Okay.”

“I’ll still call and write,” Lara clarified, “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you. Besides, I’m going to need a support system through this, and you’re the biggest support I’ve got.”

There were tears in her eyes as she asked, “Promise?”

Lara reached up and pulled Kell’di down so she could kiss her forehead, “Of course I promise.”

\---

The sound of the emergency alarm was blaring throughout the complex, the monotone voice announcement on repeat, “All staff to the central auditorium. This is a mandatory emergency meeting, commencing in five minutes. All staff to the central auditorium. This is a mandatory emergency meeting, commencing in five minutes. All staff to the central auditorium.”

“All staff” amounted to about fifty people, most of whom were human. A dozen or so agents called in from other planets. Oh how they’d fallen since the Star Cabal. Kell’di looked around the room for Cipher Nine, but unsurprisingly, she wasn’t there.

There were whispers flying about why the meeting might have been called. The Emperor’s death had sent the Empire into a dizzying spiral of despair - Darth Marr and the Wrath had been killed, Zakuul had announced war, the Dark Council was falling apart at the seams, and everyone still on Dromund Kaas had been coopted into helping their war efforts. It wasn’t a glamorous or enjoyable time in Sith Intelligence. And this meeting could have been about anything from enemy infiltration of their ranks to Zakuulan shutdowns to military drafts.

Shara Jenn took the podium at the front of the room, taking great pains to hide the illness that had wracked her body for the last three years - another gift from the Star Cabal.

She cleared her throat and got the attention of the room before she spoke, “Minister Beniko… has gone AWOL. We have no further details on her desertion, but we must assume that either she has defected from the Empire or she is dead.”

A round of gasps went through the room - you’d never know they were all trained assassins and operatives from the surprised noises they made. Then again, there were a number of analysts and accountants in Intelligence, too, who lacked the training to control their emotions.

Shara let the room quiet down again before she continued, “Sith Intelligence will still operate as normal. Beginning immediately, I will be acting as Interim Minister of Intelligence, but there will be a search committee formed to appoint a new Minister. We are also taking Lord Beniko’s actions seriously, and have a team committed to finding her, wherever she or her body may be. Assets will be reassigned as necessary. I have no further details at this time. Dismissed.”

There was more furious whispering as everyone left the auditorium, and as Kell’di looked back down to the podium, Shara’s steely gaze was aimed directly at her.

Her datapad vibrated with a new message.

\---

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lovebug, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be having mental breakdowns,” Lara’s blue holo-image shimmered as their connection faltered, “Start again, Kell, you had a meeting about Beniko fucking off, and then what?”

Kell’di shook her head, still crying too much to make actual words. But Lara waited patiently on the other side of the call, telling her quiet affirmations and words of comfort. She’d only been gone for six weeks and she already seemed more herself than Kell’di had seen in years. There really were no words to describe just how proud Kell’di was of her.

Five or ten minutes later, she’d calmed down enough to wipe her face and try again, “Shara sent me a message. An official message from the Office of the Interim Minister of Intelligence.”

“Is that the one you forwarded me this afternoon? The one asking you to meet her?”

Kell’di nodded, “She wants me to be Minister of Sith Intelligence.”

Lara grinned widely, “Aww, my girl’s all grown up! You’re gonna be great.”

“Lara, I’m _terrified_. I can’t run Sith Intelligence. I’m not Sith, I’m not even _human_ , for gods’ sake! Why in the hell do they want me?”

Lara shrugged, “Because you’ve surpassed every expectation of you since the day you were born? Because you have worked hard and tirelessly for years for these people and they’re finally recognizing that? Because Shara knows how smart and dutiful and loyal and tactful you are. Don’t tell me you can’t run circles around the Dark Council because I’ve seen you win arguments with Occlus and Acina before.”

“What if they just want to punish me? Blame me, a _filthy alien_ , for everything that’s going to go wrong?”

Lara crossed her arms and frowned, “First of all, you are not a filthy alien and I don’t want to hear you say those words, alright? Second of all, you can’t read their minds, Kell. But the Empire is falling apart, and someone needs to save it. I don’t know why it can’t be you.”

Kell’di sighed, running her hands down her face and hanging her head.

A few moments of silence went by before Lara spoke again, “Did Shara say if they had anyone else in mind?”

Kell’di shook her head, “I think they’d love to get Cipher Nine back, but she’s long gone. Frankly, I don’t even blame her for that.”

“When does Shara need to know your answer?”

She sighed, “The end of the week? But I’m not sure how much choice I really have in the matter.”

Lara nodded, “What’s Idrik think? Have you talked to him?”

“I haven’t seen him lately to ask,” Kell’di admitted, suddenly feeling very alone in her apartment.

“Why don’t you call him tomorrow? Get coffee or something. Someone has to fill in for me while I’m not there,” she said with a wink, “You can threaten him on my behalf if he gives you the rigamarole.”

Kell’di chuckled, and Lara grinned at her success.

“Thank you, Lara,” she said.

“No problem, Kell. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

\---

Kell’di swirled a glass of club soda in her hand, staring into it. Idrik couldn’t talk over coffee, but apparently a stiff drink was perfectly alright. Not that Kell’di drank… hence the club soda.

The Nexus Room was busy that night, the dance floor taken over by drunk Imperials looking for a one-night stand. Kell’di took another sip of her drink and tried not to think about the power plays they were all engaging in. How many reputations would be ruined tonight? How many of them would have to pay off blackmailers for the activities they engaged in?

Another Rattataki entered the room - he was short in stature, with striped tattoos across his face and the same dark grey eyes that Kell’di had. He wasn’t wearing his Sith robes tonight, opting instead for something far more casual and comfortable.

Idrik saw his younger sister from across the room and waded through the mobs to get to her. Nobody even seemed to notice that Lord Lohk was in their presence. Which was generally how Idrik liked to go about his business. He was one of the few Sith Lords who didn’t demand to be noticed whenever they entered a room. He didn’t demand obedience, nor did he have any sort of cult following like many of the more powerful Darths had. Idrik Lohk had earned his rank through deception, a friendly smile, and good family connections. He was a better agent than Kell’di in some ways.

He slid into the barstool next to her and ordered a glass of brandy, flashing the bartender a wink and a grin. The bartender groaned.

“Hey, Kell, what’s going on?” he greeted easily, “How’s the wife?”

She grimaced, “Lara’s fine. Off in rehab on Alderaan somewhere, so she’s actually better than she has been in years.”

“That’s good to hear,” Idrik replied, taking a sip of his drink, “But I take it you’re doing somewhat less well? Intelligence is probably a mess with Beniko’s defection. The old Keeper must be in charge, then?”

“Shara Jenn, yeah, she’s the interim director,” Kell’di nodded, feeling butterflies in her stomach, “but she and the other higher-ups want me to permanently take the position.”

Her brother grinned widely, “I did hear the rumors that they were looking to replace a Sith with an alien, but I didn’t know it was you! That’s excellent! Look at you, moving up in the world! And Mom said you’d never amount to anything.”

Kell’di winced, “Idrik, I don’t know if I can do this. That’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

He punched her shoulder lightly, “Of course you can do it! You’ll be great! You’re the best agent they’ve got, and frankly, the Sith Empire needs more aliens in its high ranking positions.”

“They won’t just make me a scapegoat for everything that’s going to happen with Zakuul?”

He shook his head, “Why would they? Most of the damage has already been done. They say Vowrawn is meeting with the Eternal Emperor in the next month to settle a Peace Treaty, and then he and half the Council are nope-ing out. If they really wanted to blame something on you, they would have done it already. Sounds like to me that someone is consolidating their power base, and lining up allies before they make a move for the throne.”

“The Sith Emperor’s throne?”

He tilted his head, “Of course. He’s dead now, _someone_ has to succeed him. Wouldn’t be much of an empire without an emperor would it?”

Kell’di shook her head - there weren’t many rumors that didn’t make their way through Sith Intelligence, but somehow it hadn’t really dawned on her that there was going to be political upheaval in the Sith ranks. That meant trouble for everyone.

“Folks are saying it’s going to be Vowrawn, that he’s the most senior member of the Council now,” Idrik continued, swirling his drink and clinking the glass against the rings on his fingers, “But I think he’d rather get out. Besides, he doesn’t strike me as the kind to place an alien as the head of intelligence, no matter how qualified you are. He’s probably one with the most to lose if the status quo changes.”

“You think he’d really leave the Empire? After all he’s gained?”

Idrik shrugged, “I think it’ll be temporary - or at least that _he thinks_ it’ll be temporary - and that he’ll take his contingents with him. He’s insufferable with a crowd, but I can only imagine how awful he is without one.”

Sith were entirely too loose-lipped.

She leaned against the bar, facing her brother directly now, “If not Vowrawn, who would take over the Empire?”

He drained the last of his drink and motioned for another, “There are a few. Imperius and Occlus are aliens themselves, so they might be obvious proponents of aliens in high ranking positions. But there are others. Nox knows both of them well, and she’s always a wild card. Zhorrid seems to have some fascination with aliens, even if she’s horribly racist in that regard.”

She looked at his expression, reading one of the most familiar faces to her in the entire galaxy, “But you don’t think it’s any of them.”

He grinned, a glint in his eye, “Pay attention to which Sith are at the meeting - that’ll tell you far more than my projections.”

Kell’di nodded, feeling a pit in her stomach.

\---

She breathed deeply in front of the door to the director’s office, smoothing down her formal uniform with her hands. There weren’t any wrinkles to smooth, but she had to make sure not a thing was out of place. She’d watched Lara spend hours on her hair before a formal meeting like this and was glad that wasn’t a fight she needed to worry about.

The thought of her wife pulling faces in the bathroom mirror made her smile and breathe a little easier.

“Cipher Four, come in,” Shara called as soon as Kell’di stepped forward into the light of sight of the camera outside the door.

She nodded and pushed the door open.

Shara sat front and center at the desk - there was nothing on it besides a single datapad and her terminal. In fact, the entire room was devoid of life. She’d been in here a handful of times both before and during Lana Beniko’s tenure as director, and always, the person who occupied the desk would add trinkets to the room. Propaganda posters, little plants, stacks of datapads. Nothing that would betray any personal details about the person, but there was always _something_ to indicate an actual person resided there. But there was nothing in there now. Not even an Imperial flag hanging on the wall. Just the desk, the terminal, and four chairs in front of the desk, three of which were filled.

The first person she should have guessed would be here - Darth Vowrawn, the Sith in charge of the sphere under which Intelligence fell, sat with one leg crossed over the other, swirling around some sort of drink with one hand, lazily flicking the other at nothing in particular. Of course he would be here to deem the new director.

The other two surprised her, but given her conversation with Idrik two days earlier, she probably shouldn’t have been. Darth Occlus sat in the seat farthest to the left, a maroon cloth covering her face where human eyes would have appeared. She was Miraluka, one of only a handful who had become Sith rather than Jedi. She was taller than most human men and always held herself to her greatest height. Even sitting down, her back was straight and her long arms draped off the sides of the chair.

The final member of the table before her was Darth Acina. Occlus’ wife, but otherwise had seemingly no reason to be here. Her sphere of influence was technology - she’d never dabbled in intelligence work before that Kell’di knew of. She was human, and she was ambitious, but not known to reach out of her lane into the business of other Sith. Kell’di looked from Acina to Vowrawn, but he didn’t seem at all perturbed by her presence here. Acina must have been the name Idrik had been thinking of - her marriage to an alien would likely be part of the reason she wanted another alien in a position of power.

The only other person in the room was standing in the window, looking out over Kaas City, dressed in all black, hands clasped behind her back, a double-bladed lightsaber resting on her belt. She was Chiss, but her profile looked nothing like Darth Imperius. Was there another Chiss rising in the ranks?

“Please, sit,” Shara instructed calmly, though Kell’di could only imagine how nervous she must have been in a room with four Sith.

Kell’di took the empty seat between Vowrawn and Acina, planting both feet on the floor and sitting as straight as she could, chin in the air. She wasn’t Force sensitive, but she’d been taught how to posture like a Sith since she was a child. After all, it was just assumed that all of the Lohk Clan was Force-sensitive.

“Agent Lohk, I assume you already know the nature of this meeting,” Darth Acina said, making no pretense that this was actually Vowrawn’s place rather than hers. Vowrawn, for his part, couldn’t look more bored if he tried.

Kell’di nodded, “I was told as much, yes.”

“Much in the Empire is changing as we speak,” Acina continued, “And while the departure of Minister Beniko was surprising, she has actually given us a rare opportunity.”

Occlus put her hand on Acina’s and continued for her, “You have come highly commended in every way. Your professionalism, your expertise, your attitude when faced with danger and with stress. All of these things have been communicated to us, and they all make for the perfect leader of this department.”

Kell’di bowed her head a little, “Thank you, my lords.”

“Our predecessors would have thrown away this opportunity simply because you are alien,” Acina said, looking right into Kell’di’s eyes, “But things are changing in the Sith Empire, Kell’di Lohk. Titles will be earned, regardless of race or gender. Hubris will no longer be given merit. Brute strength will not be our tactical advantage anymore. The new Sith Empire will rise above its predecessor. And we will start by placing a Force-blind, alien Rattataki - who has more than earned her place - as the Minister of Sith Intelligence.”

It felt just as much like a punch to the gut as a compliment.

“Thank you, my lords. I will perform my duties loyally and with honor.”

Acina grinned, “Oh, I have no doubt, Minister Lohk.”

Occlus gestured to the Chiss in the window, who immediately turned around and stood behind her, “My apprentice, Chaf’ilsi’merdil, will be assigned to Sith Intelligence for the time being. Just until the dust settles and there is no danger for you in taking this position.”

“And also to spy on you,” Vowrawn drawled, receiving a threatening silence from the other women of the room, but he just threw back the rest of his drink and ran his fingers over his chin tendrils.

“Filsi will report back to the Council, yes,” Occlus continued after a moment, “But she will not run Intelligence. The Dark Council will not meddle where it does not belong - not anymore. We must leave our agents to do what they are best at.”

Somehow, Kell’di doubted the last statement, but if that was the posturing they wanted to make, so be it.

“Of course,” she replied, looking to Shara.

“I will remain in Intelligence should you need anything,” the former Keeper said quietly, “I will not hold your hand, nor will I remain in this office, but you are not expected to take the controls without any help.”

Kell’di nodded, felt a weight off her shoulders knowing she’d have at least one ally.

“Kell’di Lohk,” Darth Acina said, gesturing grandly as everyone stood up, “congratulations on your acceptance of the title Minister of Intelligence. May you serve the Empire well.”

\---

Filsi stayed with Intelligence for seven years. She went on outside missions for Occlus every once in awhile, became a Sith Lord in her own right, and had other tasks, yes, but she was a familiar face in Intelligence headquarters.

Kell’di found that she didn’t mind the Chiss Sith being around.

Not three weeks after Kell’di had been promoted did Vowrawn settle a peace treaty with Zakuul. And just like Idrik said, immediately thereafter he left the Sith Empire. Rictus and Aruk had already died on a crumbling Korriban and a dusty Ziost. Mortis, Ravage, and Zhorrid announced two days before Vowrawn signed the treaty that they had no desire to remain with an Empire that would bend to its enemies. Imperius and Nox had gone galavanting off into Wild Space - there were more rumors on their location than there were about the fate of the Wrath.

Idrik was right about everything, it seemed.

Lara returned to Dromund Kaas, and had been sober ever since. She’d found work outside of Intelligence, as a safety precaution for Kell’di, but also because she didn’t want the stress of it all anymore. She was still Kell’di’s number one confidante.

_Kell,_   
_Going out to the store this afternoon - you want anything for dinner? Roasted nerf? Zhellday Date Night is on! I’ve already got some old vids to watch._   
_Love you,_   
_L._

She smiled and shook her head - the galaxy was falling apart, but her life was really looking up for the first time in a decade.

“Hello, Minister Lohk,” Filsi greeted gently as she walked into Kell’di’s office, pulling her attention away from her datapad.

“Good morning, Lord Chaf,” she replied, looking up as the Sith sat down in one of the chairs across her desk, “How was your mission to Odessen?”

Filsi nodded, “Oh, it went about as you would expect. The Alliance nods and declares that we are allies, but refuses to tell me anything we don’t already know. Word is the traitor in their ranks has returned, but after that bungle with the Zakuulan god and Eternal Fleet, it’s obvious they won’t be a real galactic player any longer. We won’t have to worry about their allegiance in the coming war with the Republic.”

The holoterminal on her desk beeped with an incoming call. Normally, Filsi would leave if it was Intelligence business, but this time, she sat still, crossing one leg demurely over the other as if she’d been expecting this. Well, she probably was. She was Sith, after all, and had even higher clearance than Kell’di did.

She pressed on the receiver and the image of the Sith Empress appeared before them.

“Good morning Minister Lohk, Lord Chaf,” Acina greeted. She’d taken well to her new role - no surprise there.

“Good morning, Empress,” both women replied together.

“I’m glad to have caught you both at the same time,” Acina continued, Occlus moving into the frame, “The Empire has need of you on Ossus.”

“Ossus?” Filsi asked, sitting up further in her seat, “Isn’t Malora there? Does she need assistance?”

Acina shook her head, “This matter is beyond Malora. There is a former member of our Empire who wished to return, an... _ally_. Ossus will be his proving ground. There is little strategic value there - we’ve known about the Jedi colony there for years, and they’ve done very little to bolster their numbers and seem perfectly content to stay out of galactic politics. Malora is a loyal member of the Dark Council, but she lacks focus. I need you two there as our eyes and ears.”

Kell’di leaned forward a bit, “Who is the ally that you are referring to?”

The Empress leaned back a little in her seat, giving them a shrewd half-smile, “Darth Malgus has returned from the grave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! <333


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